THE BEGGAR'S BANQUET
by BinaryTales
Summary: Ed and Roy are finally getting married on Earth—but Envy and Gluttony scheme to turn the wedding into a funeral for the brothers and Al’s family. The Elric clan is on the run again—just as a Tringham in Amestris opens the Gateway to Earth once again…
1. Chapter 1

FALMAN MEMORIAL HIGH, CENTRAL AMESTRIS, 2001

THE BEGGAR'S BANQUET:

Being a chapter in the Curious History of The Life and Love of

EDWARD ELRIC AND ROY MUSTANG

_On THIS side of the Gateway_

_In Which Some Are Born_

_Some are wed_

_Some Die_

_And Love Conquers (almost) All…_

_WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE…_

_The legacy of Hohenheim of Light has taken its toll on the Elric Brothers and Alphonse's descendants. They do not appear to age more than the forty years that Hohenheim reached-whether this is caused by Hohenheim's altered genetics (see the Manga) or their direct, prolonged contact with the Philosopher's Stone (see the series)is not known. It has made for a life of secrecy, of failed marriages among Al's children and grandchildren and a fierce desire to keep vigil over the dangerous Gate Stones created by Hohenheim in his mad attempts to return to Amestris. The most hazardous of these Gatestones is the foundation of a certain estate outside of Munich, Germany—however there are many others—and whenever someone on the Amestris side or from within the Gateway—begins to meddle with those devices there is always trouble._

_Thus, it was decided that the Elric brothers would keep constant vigil over these stones to prevent them being used for the same horrific purposes as the Thule Group. Many societies and governments, covert and not quite so covert, have been attempting to pry out the secrets of the mysterious carved stones…and have been dealt with by the family. To that end, the brothers began to train others to carry the burden, among whom were research assistant Denny Brosh, Al's daughter Trisha, her partner Jean-Remy Havoc, his mother Jeanne-Marie, and Edward's long time lover, Taisa Roy Mustang. That all four of them had once lived in Amestris, died and been reborn on this side of the Gateway, was no coincidence. Al's great-grandson, Edwin Hohenheim Elric, age 14, has been slowly primed for a hopeful future as one of these alchemic students—however, it is beginning to seem that Edwin is capable of making the same sort of impulsive mistakes as his famous uncle._

_Several months have passed since the events of "Fifty Trips Around the Sun". The brothers and Mustang have returned safely to Resembool East, their home in Tokyo, and Trisha and the Havocs have joined them in preparation for the birth of the next generation of Elrics…._

FALMAN MEMORIAL HIGH, CENTRAL AMESTRIS, 2001

A nasal Eastern voice crackled over the p.a. system: "Mr. Hughes! Paging Mr. Hughes! Please report immediately to the Principal's office. Thank you!"

Two dozen fists shot up in triumph:

"Alllll riiiiigh!"

"Boooyahhhh!"

Freakin'-A!"

"_KNOCK IT OFF!"_ Louis 'Loser' Hughes slammed his fist down on his desk, but the pandemonium didn't subside. "All right, sit down and be quiet! I'll be right back. In the meantime, I want you to go ahead and read chapter 22 on the Gateway Invasion of 1917. If you finish in time, start answering the questions at the end of the chapter. And your homework assignment—" here came a chorus of groans which the teacher ignored, "—will be to write a two page essay on one of the participants in that battle--  
"MUSTANG!! I want Mustang! Dibs! I got him, Mr. Hughes!" a bright eyed brunette shrieked from the back.

"Hey!" "No fair!" "I wanna do the General too!"

" Fine," Mr. Hughes shook his head wearily. "Whatever. _Whoever_. Two pages. And the questions at the end of the chapter, if you don't finish them before I get back." He snapped his fingers at a lazy looking blond boy in the front row. "Tringham! Get up here and keep order—and get those fPod buds out of your ears right now or I'll confiscate your player."

Soon as the harried history instructor closed the door behind him, Josh Tringham snapped a National Army salute at his back. "Yes, my Fuehrer!" Holding his finger straight along his upper lip to approximate the moustache of dethroned Fuehrer Beast Bradley, he marched comically up to the front of the room before perching on his teacher's desk, ass impudently planted right on top of a brown paper sack containing the crustless white bread sandwich Mr. Hughes had brought for lunch. "Ahhhhh," he ground his butt cheeks down, then held up the sandwich. "Remember this, classmates, when you see His Dorkiness in the cafeteria!"

The room went _wild_.

Snatching up Loser Hughes' reading glasses and shoving them down the end of his nose, Josh began to ape his instructor. "Now then, _claaasssssss_! We were discussing St. Mustang the Sarcastic, also known as St. Mustang the Rampant, host of the Big Bradley Barbecue, killer of Ishballan babies, hero of the Gateway Rebellion…_Annnnd_ one of the biggest horn-dogs in our nation's history. Legend has it he had a big ego, a big heart and a big _dick_ to go with it! But what's behind the _real _Mustang, you ask?" He rubbed his hands together greedily. "Or…should we ask, 'who was the _real_ Mustang behind? Are the awful rumors true? Was he a switch hitter? AC/DC? AM/FM? Did he prefer steak to seafood or was he an omnivore?"

"_Ewwww!_ Mustang wasn't queer!" protested the eager brunette from the back.

"Dude! That's freakin' _sick_! He wasn't no ass-jockey! I heard he'd knock the boots of any chick he could smile at. They'd roll over like dice!"

Another boy shook his head. "Nah…I heard he and General Hughes were blowin' each other's bugles in the trenches at Ishbal—and that when Hughes got 86'ed ol' Roy-Boy was cryin' like a baby."

A spirited discussion followed, during which the classmates vehemently took sides over the issue of the famous General's sexual preference. Josh let them yammer for a few minutes and then waved his hand for silence. "Ya wanna know the truth, dudes? He was into The Metal Man himself. No shit."

"Whoa! Dude! You mean Ed Elric _rode the Mustang_? For real?"

"Nahhh. Couldn't be! You're such a bullshitter, Tringham. Just like ol' Russell and yer great granddad."

Josh leaned back against the marker board, arms crossed, coolly waiting for the shouting to die down. "Hey," he said lazily, "If you don't wanna know, ya don't wanna know. All I'm sayin' is," he taunted, "if you DO wanna know about Mustang bone-doggin' the Fullmetal, I'll get ya proof. But it's gonna cost ya."

"How much?"

Tringham's belly growled. "Pizza. Extra sauce. Double anchovies. Make it a large, and it's gotta be from Gluttony's or it's no go, you got that?"

TOKYO, OCTOBER, 2007

Mrs. Ai Watanabe—or Watanabe Ai, if one wanted to be correct—was intercepted on her way to the Elric's penthouse suite by a tall, grinning American who stopped mid-jog to snatch up her parcels before she could lug them another step. "Miz Ai, let me get those for you.—really now, you should let me or Mustang-San carry these for you!"

She blushed as she always did when Tricia-San's boyfriend intercepted when she was trying to get her work done. This bundle was too big, he'd argue, or that shelf is too high. Havoc-San, if he could have his way, would no doubt carry her up the steps on his brawny back and treat her like a porcelain doll, not a woman made strong by a lifetime of hard work. And if he wasn't fussing over her, Mustang-San was hovering over her, pouring her tea, making her favorite hazelnut biscotti and scolding her gently if she was working too hard.

And then there was Alphonse-San…who appeared to be making shy overtures of friendship towards her, and the raucous whirlwind of his brother Edward-San, currently making everybody crazy as he and Mustang-San planned their wedding. Imagine that, she shook her head, two fine men choosing to wed one another and not some lovely, eligible woman! And the lone woman in the household, Alphonse's daughter Tricia was about to pop she was so child heavy. And she appeared to have no intention of marrying Havoc-San—no to mention the whispers that the charming Cajun was not the father of the little girl, due to arrive in just a few weeks.

"That's why we're holding off on the wedding until the spring," Mustang had told her. "I want Teddy as my best man, and her baby's got to be old enough to travel. Obviously we can't get legally married in Japan, and that's what Ed wants." Mustang serenely bombed his coffee cup with more sugar cubes and a heavy dollop of cream. "The U.S. has civil unions in some states and legal marriage in others—but there's all that pesky residency crap to bother with. Hughes is looking into it for us. In the meantime," he mumbled around a mouthful of biscotti, "Ed's still got this ridiculous idea of making me wear a dress, damn it—uh, gomen nasai, Ai-San. I need to watch my language. No need having little Izumi running around cussing like…well, like an _Elric_."

As if on cue, there was a staccato burst of profanity from the office. "GODmother_FUCKING_damnit!" Edward roared. "I can't fuckin' _believe_ this! Mustang! Did you see this shit in the paper?"

"Ohhh, there goes His Assholiness again." Mustang put down his coffee cup with a bang. "Better see what's crawled up his butt this time." Forgetting his resolution to curb his foul language, Mustang made his way down the hall, stopping by the tri-level ferret cage that was home to Mustang's pet rat, Einstein. "C'mere, Genius,' he coaxed. "I'm not facing _him_ alone this morning. He's pissier than usual."

Coffee in hand, rat on shoulder, Taisa Roy Mustang confronted his lover. "_What_, goddamn it?"

Edward thrust the paper at him. "Remember that shithole in the Caribbean where we got engaged last spring?"

Mustang shuddered. La Isla de Ranamuerte—the notorious 'Island of Deadly Frogs'—had been old stomping grounds for Ed's father, Hohenheim of Light, who had created one of several Gateway Portal stones in a remote cave on the island. Suspicious activity lighting up the stone had sent Ed and Taisa to investigate. They'd found themselves booked into the Hope Springs Resort where the famed 'sexual orientation deprogrammer' James Busbee McDonald was on site, holding one of his pricey seminars. Ed had taken a number of gleeful verbal pot-shots at the pudgy author and when he'd learned of McDonald's keeling over from a heart attack, he'd treated his lover to champagne and an hour long blowjob. Since that trip the very mention of frogs or toads—or even the world 'cola' sent Edward in to fits of mean spirited sniggering.

"How the hell would I forget Ranamuerte? What—did they end their war with Jamaica?"

Edward tossed him a toothy, malicious grin. "Yup! And seems like your old friend Paninya has made a goddamn fortune. Ever read about those Peruvian frog drinks? Supposed to be like natural Viagra or something?"

"Yeah? Sounds revolting." It had been all over the 'net—whole frogs were being ground up with white bean broth and aloe vera juice to make this disgusting brew that tourists were swilling down like crazy, claiming that the wretched mess would cure damn near any ills, but impotence in particular."

"Well, Paninya got the wild-assed idea of using kola nut extract instead of bean broth and she's making a killing. Calls the stuff Croaka-Kola. People are paying a packet for this shit on Ebay. She's gone and bought out the Hope Springs—and get this--she's turning it into a Gay resort, specializing in—"

_Oh shit_, Mustang prayed inwardly. _God, Ed—don't say it!_

"—Gay weddings. _Legally sanctioned. _So--ya wanna head back to the island?"

"Fuck you!" Mustang spluttered. "I want a _divorce!_"

RISEMBOOL EAST, TOKYO

"You've got to be shitting me!" Tricia "Teddy" Elric peered over the rims of her Lennonesque eyeglasses and hoisted up both eyebrows in skepticism. "Where the hell did you download this from, Comedy Central?"

Mustang shook his head ruefully. "It gets worse. Read on."

" Right. 'According to those savvy to current health food fads, the frosty concoctions served up for patrons of Le Grenouille, the island's newest watering hole, have taken the glitterati by storm. Available in 'peeper', 'leaper' and 'Bufo' sizes, the Ranamuerte frog smoothies are said to enhance longevity, encourage hair growth and revive sagging virility in men over thirty. Unlike their Peruvian counterpart, frog smoothies are made with spring water, kola nut extract, aloe vera juice, wild honey, cinnamon, nutmeg and, of course, one of five different species of Ranamuertian tree frog.'" She flung the printout at her companion. "_Gaaaahhgghh!_ You mean people _pay_ to drink that shit? And Edo actually wants you two to go back and get _married_ at this place??"

Chuckling evilly, Mustang resumed reading in her stead. " It says that Paninya—that's the woman Ed and I met when we were on the island last February—has been bombarded with letters worldwide from animal right's activists, but she says that she makes certain the frogs are actually dead before they get tossed in the blender. 'I snatch 'em out of the tank, smack 'em on the head with a brick, then skin 'em, gut 'em, rinse 'em in 151 rum and then pop 'em in the mix, bones and all. I use the ice crushing setting, so everything grinds up nice and smooth. Shot o' rum splashed in, and we got you in business, mon!' And get this—they've specials, like 'Croak Til' Ya Choke Tuesdays' with Tadpole Tapas, Bufo Buffalo Kickers, _Toad_stadas—"

"—stop! You're gonna make me puke!"

"—grilled _tadpol_ish sausage, Hoppin' John that _really_ hops, and—where are you going?"

"Okay," he told her contritely. "I wasn't _trying_ to make you sick. Are you all right?"

She jammed an Altoid in her mouth to kill the taste. "Fine and dandy," she grumbled. "By the way, where the hell is your husband-to-be? Working on wedding plans?"

"Actually, Alphonse and I ganged up on Ed this morning about starting the Elric chronicles. Now that Havoc and I have started formally studying alchemy and your nephew will be ready in a few years, it's more important than ever that we record the family's history. Besides, I'm using your baby as the perfect excuse."

"Huh?"

"Ed kept bitching that he didn't know how to start. I told him 'fine, just write a letter to Izumi. Tell her about the world she's about to be born into, the people who will be part of her life."

Teddy looked pensive. "_All _of it? Even…about the _Colonel_?"

Mustang squeezed her hand. "Yeah. All of it. I mean," he qualified, "I know you and Havoc will tell her first—but she might need to hear it from a different point of view."

_Dear Izumi Jean:_

_Alchemic histories are pretty boring, at least the stuff about who did what to whom, y'know. I'm used to your mom doing my ghost writing for me, but she's gotten all Elric-stubborn and tells me I have to do this myself, since I'm the head of the family on this side of the Gateway. She says I owe it to you—says the least I can do is record our history up to this point._

_Okay, kid—for the record, it's the Earth year 2007. That's 2001 in Amestris, 'cause for some damned reason we seem to be about six years apart in time. Don't ask me to explain it. _

_Now, notice I said Earth year/Amestris year. Imagine that you're standing in a hallway and there's a door to your right and a door to your left. The door on the right is Earth, the world you were born and grew up in. The door on the left is Amestris, where Alphonse and I come from. The hall in the middle? That's what we call The Gateway. It isn't hell, and it certainly ain't heaven…but it's something kinda like BOTH, if that makes sense. There's an intelligence that runs the show that hangs out in the hallway. We don't call It 'god' or whatever. If you ever see It (hope to fuck you don't!) and ask It, It will tell you It is TRUTH…and then It will say, "And I am YOU". That will undoubtedly freak you out, and that's cool. That's how the game is played._

_There are families of souls that live within the Gateway—the fancy name is Eggregore, if ya wanna get technical. They don't just spend Timeless Eternity sitting on their asses. Some of 'em do bad things. Some of 'em do good stuff. Some make changes in history on both sides in order to help souls to evolve. And some of 'em are trying to clear up the mistakes they made on earth._

_Guess which kinda Eggregore you belong to??_

_Sucks, doesn't it?_

_It's my Dad's fault—he is/was a soul called Phillip Von Hohenheim. Born on the Earth side, but wound up in Amestris, where he learned not only to use alchemy but to abuse it. Yep, our illustrious family founder was a multi-world-class fuckup._

_Long story short, he spent about 400 years in Amestris and wound up back on Earth, leaving me and my brother Alphonse behind. When he got on this side, he tried to make a bunch of escape routes—call 'em Gateway Stones or Portal Stones. If an Elric on the Earth side touches one at the same time an Elric in Amestris—OR in the Gateway—touches it, BOOM! The Stone becomes an open door and you can change worlds._

_Sounds neat, eh? There's a catch, of course. You gotta pay admission for the trip—there's a sacrifice demanded of you. Something will be taken from you—and it isn't always material. And depending on how things go, you MIGHT have something given back that you lost—Izumi, you are the direct result of that exchange. When your mom, Tricia, and your grandfather Alphonse came back from their trip to Amestris this year, all the organs she lost to cancer were returned to her. Your mom had sacrificed more than she had received and TRUTH balanced the debt by giving her back everything she lost, meaning that she could have kids again. That's where she got you—but let me get back to this history, okay?_

_Oh, and speaking of history—those damned Portals don't always run on the same chronological timetable as we do. When Tricia and Alphonse went back through, they ended up in the Amestris year 1951—the same year Tricia was born, along with our adopted family members Mayland Hughes and my life partner, Taisa Roy Mustang._

_Anyway—so you know Hohenheim fucked up a lot of lives, but mostly our lives. If you've really fucked up, you get stuck in the Gateway until you 1)forgive yourself and 2)decide that you're worth saving and make an effort to be reborn on one or the other side of the Gate. Hell, I guess, is a place between the world you've made in your own mind. _

_Hohenheim, basically, is in a 'hell' of his own making. He keeps trying to meddle with our lives in some weird effort to make things right—and only makes things worse. _

_That's where you come in, Izumi. See, not every soul in the Gateway is in some kinda hell. Many stay there to watch over loved ones—that's more like heaven, I guess. _

_You were our Sensei, our alchemy master, and you loved us as much as if you'd been our birth mother. Hohenheim would fuck things up and you, Izumi, would clean up the mess, bitching like mad all the time. Another person who would work with you from the Gateway was our mother, Tricia. It was like Al and I had two mothers watching over us, trying to keep us out of trouble and trying to keep our Dad from making things worse._

_See, when Al and I were kids, Dad ran off and left us. Our mom died young and we tried to bring her back with alchemy—biiiiig mistake, and we'll go over that later. Anyway, I lost my arm and leg and Al lived like a ghost tied to a suit of armor for four years of his life. Al eventually got his body back and I got sent to the Earth side—but I never got over how I'd fucked up my brother's life and made an epic fuck up of everything._

_In short—it looked like I'd never forgive myself and my soul would be stuck in a self-made hell, just like Dad. So, Izumi, you and Mom decided to step in and help me. Mom took birth as Al and Winry's youngest child, whom we named Tricia Edwina Elric—she changed that middle name to Edward, 'cause she loves me so much, heh heh—whom everybody calls Teddy. Teddy became my alchemic disciple and student. I pounded it into her head not to make the mistakes I made—and when she ended up in Amestris and could actually work real alchemy, she didn't fuck up or abuse it. THAT was part of my redemption—that those who follow me (like you and your cousin Edwin)follow an ethical course and not abuse the power like Dad or me—or Al, who's made a few fuckups of his own._

_Now—you know your uncle Taisa Roy Mustang? Hopefully by the time you read this he'll legally be my husband, but we've been lovers since the Earth year 1976. He and Teddy and Hughes all lived together in college, and Teddy brought us together. Taisa is what we call a "doppleganger"--in other words, he's somebody who's been on BOTH sides of the Gate that we've known in the past. In my homeland he was an incredibly powerful fire alchemist named Colonel Roy Mustang (also known as 'that evil smirking bastard', 'the asshole Colonel" and "Colonel Sarcasm"). We met when I was twelve and he was almost thirty, one of the most ambitious men I've ever met. See, there had been this horrible war where Roy and other State-sponsored alchemists were used as 'human weapons' to wipe out whole cities and slaughter thousands of people. Roy's idea was to claw his way to the top, run the country and then clean up all the bullshit. He found out the Fuehrer of Amestris was a real life monster and took him on and killed him—but that cost him his chance to become Fuehrer himself. Far as Roy could see it, he failed all the way around and couldn't redeem himself for the crimes of his younger days._

_You can see where this is headed, right? Straight down to a self-appointed hell._

_You've read Dickens' "A Christmas Carol". The Colonel wasn't exactly Scrooge, but he needed somebody to get through to him before he died. Otherwise he'd spend time stuck between the worlds beating himself up. And I wanted him with me._

_See, I loved him in Amestris first, soon as I was old enough. I always had a crush on him, and when I was of age we became lovers. Had to keep it hidden, which was really hard on both of us. Anyway, long story short, the door between the worlds got forced open by some really stupid asswipes in Munich, Germany. I went back though the Gate but realized it was too dangerous to leave open. And when I went back to Earth, I had to leave my lover behind, but I figured Mustang would follow me through and close it behind him, which he didn't, stupid bastard._

_We were both on our sides of the Gateway, each waiting for the other to come back. Mustang died of pneumonia in the Amestris year 1951, when he was nearly 70 years old. Now, remember what I said about dying without making your peace with yourself? What can happen to you—about the hell of your own making? Well, Hohenheim had it figured out, knowing how much I missed my Colonel. He'd send somebody through the Gate to warn Roy so he'd die peacefully and then take birth on the Earth side and find me again, since we Elrics live uncommonly long lives. _

_He didn't want to risk me or Al, so he decided on Teddy, your mom. Again—long story short: your mom and her dad went through, leaving Earth in February of 2007 and arriving in the winter of 1951 Amestris, when Mustang was about to get whisked off to some nursing home and spend his days strapped to a wheel chair eating mush—and that was the last thing Mustang wanted._

_This is the hard part to explain, Izumi, so pay attention. _

_There is no alchemy, as such, on Earth. Not like there is on Amestris…but there is Magick. I don't like to admit it, but I've been around enough medicine men and shamans and even folk healers like your dad, Jean-Remy. I've seen what they can do with my own eyes. Your mom, when she was grown, studies both Magick and Alchemy…and part of that was what is called 'Sex Magick' or Tantric Alchemy. It uses the body in ways of generating tremendous amounts of energy that can be used for healing. Your mom used that Magick on Colonel Mustang to give him strength to live long enough to get through the Gateway while alive, make his peace and then seek to be reborn so he could love me again._

_While she was performing this Tantric Alchemy, she left her body—something she and her dad do very easily—and met YOU between the worlds. YOU became the bridge so that my spirit could leave its body, pass through you, and speak directly to the Colonel to warn him of the danger he was in—and to tell him a very special secret: the name of the woman who would be his mother in 1957 Earth. I was there only a short time, and it was very hard on your mom, but because this happened Roy was born, found our family and has been the love of my life for the last 30 years._

_Your granddad paid the price by pain—he was reunited with your grandmother Winry and it broke his heart to leave her again, to come back and live without her. He is better now, but it was as horrible as losing her all over again. Since your mom had given up so much, she actually gained--the organs she lost to cancer, as I said before, were given back._

_Now—when she got those organs back, she was fertile and able to conceive. She had performed an act of sexual alchemy to help heal the Colonel—that means when she came back through the Gate she carried his seed inside her, and that seed is actually viable for several days. Your mother was surprised to learn she had gotten her womb, ovaries, tubes and cervix back, but even more surprised when she learned, weeks later, that you were on the way._

_Your spirit overshadowed her when she was returning to Earth, and when you lived in Amestris as my teacher, you lost those very same organs your mom lost on Earth. Maybe that's why Teddy got them restored—I don't know for sure. Anyway, your mom was really shaken up by this…but she realized that you were there for a reason, and that she would do anything to keep you safe. She was going to name you Roy, but as soon as she knew you were a girl she named you Izumi, your original name, which means "fountain" or "wellspring"—or "source". Your middle name, Jean, is from your dad, Jean-Remy Havoc, who was named in turn for your grandmother, Jeanne-Marie Baptiste Havoc. The Havocs are an old Cajun family of 'Traiteuristes', a type of folk magician/healer found only in back woods parts of Louisiana, where they come from. Your dad is also a doppleganger, as are so many of the people who are waiting for you to be born._

_In a way, kiddo, I'm sorry—'cause you're not gonna be born into an average family, We got more secrets to hide, more skeletons than we got closets, more things we don't want others to find out, 'cause people as a rule are scared and dumb. On the other hand, we love each other so damn much—Elrics will die for each other. We also scream and yell and call each other rude names…well, Mustang and I do, anyway…but it's just noise. The love is what really matters. So in that sense, I'm not sorry for you—and I want you to be proud of yourself. Your mom and dad love you more than anything in the whole world, and your sire would have been proud of you too._

_And as for your old Uncle Edo…well…never forget that I'm on your side. Always. No matter what._

_See you on your birthday--and hurry up, will you? You're mother's driving us all crazy!! Try to get born before Christmas, so you'll get more presents—you won't be sharing your birthday with a Deity._

_Edward Elric_

_21 November, 2007_

_Tokyo, Japan_

_EARTH side of the Gateway_

_PS: your cousin Teddi-Grace Hughes was born about twenty minutes ago. You'll probably see a lot of her. And when her dad picks up the camera, kick 'im in the shins and run like hell, okay? That's my girl!_


	2. Chapter 2

THANKSGIVING, 2007--EARTHSIDE

THANKSGIVING, 2007--EARTHSIDE

As compromises go, it wasn't half bad.  
Three tables. Three webcams. Turkey on the table at 6pm in San Francisco while the Tokyo Elrics celebrated with a festive brunch of omelets, steak, pain perdu buried under wild strawberries, fresh fruit salad, and enough coffee to float a Behemoth RV.

Hughes and Gracia, four days home from the hospital, were logging in from Los Angeles. They had set up in the living room so that Gracia could rest on the couch. "We already had our turkey," Elysia confided, "so we're having our dessert. 'Cept for my sister—my mommy is _bestfeeding_!"  
"Whoa! _Whoops!_ Sorry about that, folks!" Mayland Hughes distracted his firstborn by spritzing a mountain of cream in ornate curlicues over her slice of pumpkin pie. "  
"We didn't hear a thing, did we?" Alfons winked at his sister in 'Frisco. Alphonse's older children were hosting the Elric clan's festivities from Risembool West, currently the home of Fritz, his wife Christine and their son Edwin. Alfons named his son after his own beloved godfather, famed German ex-patriot film genius Fritz Lang. Lang had befriended Edward in Germany just before the war and had encouraged Ed and Al to emigrate to the U.S. along with the other German scientists who wished to play no part in the war machine of the Third Reich. "Uncle Fritz" had been a fixture at Elric Thanksgiving dinners right up until his death in the 70's.  
Even with the 'Tokyo Contingent' absent from the feast the room was still crammed to the rafters with Elrics and Rockbells, plus the 'Shanghaied Elrics'—people like Denny Brosh, Maria Ross, Sheska, the Hughes family and a handful of others who found themselves embraced by Alphonse, Ed or the Earth-born decedents of Hohenheim.  
"Hey! Aunt Tee! When are you and Uncle Remy coming back?" Edwin waved at the camera. "Will you be here for Christmas? Dad says I can go bike riding with you as long as I wear a helmet." Like his great grandmother Winry, Edwin had a passion for motorcycles, even though he was too young to ride solo. He greatly approved his aunt's choice of Havoc as her life partner. Uncle Jean-Remy was beyond cool with his big-ass Harley Electra-Glide, leather jackets and his unflappable Cajun _joie de vie_.  
Teddy shook her head. "We'll be back before Mardi Gras. We'll see you then—oh, and I'm bringing a big surprise back to the States."  
At the words big surprise, Win-Sara dropped her napkin, bending down to mask the uneasy expression on her face. Aware of the questions that might come of a close perusal of her medical records, Teddy and Remy had settled in Japan with Ed and Alphonse and Mustang to wait out the birth, planning to introduce little Izumi Jean as an adopted newborn. And happy as they tried to be for their little sister, the whole deal unnerved the hell out of Alfons and Win-Sara.  
Alphonse had always battled against the natural skepticism of his older children. The recent adventures in Amestris—and the ultrasounds of Teddy's unborn child--had flung irrefutable evidence, once and for all, that their old man and quarrelsome uncle were not simply spinning imaginative yarns to comfort themselves since their exile from their motherland. Amestris was real. Alchemy, damn it, was real. Two—no, three—members of the family were full fledged alchemists. Hell's bells—there were even pictures! Alphonse and Teddy posing with a tall, wasted figure with an eye patch who appeared to be conjuring a small flame with the snap of his fingers. Teddy standing in a glowing array, this one eye'd Colonel supervising her from one side. A cluster of older men and a graceful silver haired woman surrounding their father—and one of them was a dead ringer for Teddy's lover, Havoc!  
Edo had finally laid down the law. "Our father fucked up, got it?" he growled at them when balked at the evidence. "For the rest of our lives—as long as there are those goddamned Gateway Stones and we can't figure out how the hell to destroy them, our family has got to have trained alchemists who know how to deal with anybody and anything that tries to cross over. A lot of innocent people died back before the war when those jerks from the Thule Society opened the Gate on this side. And you do not want to know what it did to our home world. This shit is not going to happen again. Do you understand me? This is what your father and I and your kid sister do—we are the watchdogs who keep Earth safe from Amestris—and Amestris safe from Earth. You'd better deal with this, or you'll tear this family apart."

Alfons quickly caught his sister's eye. _It's okay, Win. Let it go. It's a holiday, after all_.

So they ate their pie in L.A., carved the turkey in San Francisco and toasted one another with champagne and orange juice in Japan—the Elrics, Rockbells, Hugheses and Havocs and their adopted kinfolk. "Sucks not to be there with you," Ed admitted, tearing into his second mushroom omelet as if he hadn't already demolished the first one as well as a half dozen sausages. "Still, it's great that we can talk like this together. And soon as most of us are done we can get down to business."

A third omelet and three cups of coffee later, Edward rapped on the table for order. "Right! First things first—it's good to see you all. We're here, intact, nobody's dead or run off or whatever. Next year we'll be back on the west coast for Thanksgiving…although we are planning a special family reunion trip this spring—I'll get to that later, okay?" All three tables had exploded into eager—and anxious—talk at the mention of family reunion. Every time the Elrics had invaded a resort area en masse there was bound to be mayhem, and Uncle Edo was invariably at the heart of the trouble. It could be great fun…provided you weren't one of the ones caught up in the chaos. Fritz would never forget the famous trip to Disneyland when Edo offered to ride Space Mountain with him—and got booted off for being too short. When the cast member suggested that It's A Small World didn't have any such height requirements Ed had to be physically dragged out of the line before any punches were thrown.

"Anyway," he continued, "let me be the first to welcome Teddi-Grace Hughes to our family!" He lifted his glass and the family toasted with him as Gracia glowed with pride. "Long life to you, and to Miss Elysia, who is now officially a big sister!" He glanced across the table where the Havocs were seated on either side of Teddy. "And for anyone who hasn't met them yet, Jean-Remy and his mother Jeanne-Marie have joined us from Louisiana. Teddy and Remy are going to be handfasted at Mardi Gras this spring, so all of you who aren't adverse to Pagan rituals that involve large quantities of food and alcohol and jazz are invited to throw beads and doubloons at the happy couple if you happen to be in New Orleans. As for Teddy's surprise—Mays and Gracia aren't the only ones celebrating a new arrival. Teddy and Remy will be welcoming a very special little girl into their lives. They're going to name her Izumi Jean Elric—hold on! Everybody shut up!" he yelled as pandemonium broke out. "The baby is expected to be born sometime around the first week of December, and they have to wait for her to be old enough to travel and to get all her papers in a row. Soon as we bring her home, we'll upload some pictures to the website."

Teddy, disguising her heavy belly by slouching at the table, heaved a sigh of relief. "Told you he'd handle it for you," Taisa whispered with a grin. "He can be tactful."  
"Usually Edo is about as subtle as flying mallet," she shrugged. "Hope it doesn't cause internal bleeding or anything."

"_Roy_." Edward nodded to his lover, who rose and joined him at the head of the Tokyo table. Turning to the camera, Edward became very serious. "EVERYBODY Shut the hell up! This is the big news, and we have wanted to share this with our loved ones for some time now. Taisa Roy Mustang and I have been together for longer than a lot of you have been alive. Thirty years, and we haven't killed one another yet.

"When Mustang and I met back in 1976, it was dangerous for two men to walk down the street holding hands. Damn it, it's still dangerous. There are a lot of evil minded people out there who wouldn't mind pumping a few rounds of bullets in either of us, just because the person we share our life with happens to be another guy. I knew the day I met this man that I was never going to let him go. Now, I know not everybody here is comfortable with that. Three words, people: get over it. Do it now, because—hell!" To everyone's astonishment, Edward rubbed at his eyes for a moment before reaching up to grab at Mustang's shoulders. "I asked you this in front of a bunch of repressed closet cases in the jungles of the Caribbean—and you said yes. I asked you again in Paris—and nearly got the shit beaten out of both of us for kissing you on the Eiffel Tower You said yes."  
"Right after I paid off the sommelier at Le Jules Verne, that restaurant on the second level, so we could crawl down the service hatch and get away from the gendarmes."  
Edward shook his head dismissively. "Only one star from Guide Michelin, even with Alain Ducasse at the helm. The food wasn't brilliant but you looked great in white tie and tails."  
"—which were ripped to shreds when we were halfway down to the first level—"  
"Look—it was better than ending up in some pissant Parisian police lockup waiting for Hughes to bail us out before some _branleur_ tried to make you his _tassepé_—"  
"Oh really? Well, as the French would say, Edowado, '_C'est vraiment de ta faute!'_ Remy, would you mind translating that for this _trou de cul_?"  
"_French?_" Havoc looked innocent. "Me? I'm _Swiss_. Swiss and _neutral_."  
"And if you were my boy, Edouard, I'd wash your mouth out with soap!" Jeanne-Marie cut in crossly. "Regardez les enfants!"  
She was right. Not everybody at the table was accustomed to the foul mouthed squabbling of the lovers and some looked rather uncomfortable. Ed shrugged, mumbled something that might have been an apology, and returned to the subject at hand. "Anyway, I wanna do this one more time, in front of my whole family and the people I love best. So…Taisa Roy Mustang, will you marry me?"  
"Why the hell not?" Mustang smirked wickedly. "Gracia? We'll need your help getting Ed's gown altered so he won't trip over the train—"  
"Why you low-life, backstabbing, smirking evil bast—"  
Teddy and Remy, as if on cue, began waving their napkins like white flags. "PEACE! Pax! Pacce! Shanti!" Teddy shouted.  
"Don't make us start singing '_Kumbaya_'," her lover added.  
Edward lifted his hands in mock surrender and returned to his audience. "Right! Soon as we can find a place for a legal wedding, we'll make the announcement so we can make travel plans, since we want Teddy and Gracia there and we have to make sure the babies can come with us, or arrange child care while we are gone." Edward folded his arms and stared right into the camera. "All right—this is the point when you should be saying 'congratulations'."  
The response was almost completely positive.  
The lone naysayer, however, cut Edward to the heart.  
"That's…._god_…that's just _sick_, dude!" Young Edwin shoved his chair back, looking flushed and furious. " I mean--you're acting like a bunch of faggots!"  
"We are," said Roy calmly.  
"And we're family," Edward added sternly. "Watch your goddamned mouth, kid."  
"You're not my family, you fuckin' perverts," the boy shouted, flipping a rude gesture at the head of his family before stomping out the front door.

_"Hey."_  
Mustang glanced wearily up from the same paragraph he'd been reading for over an hour. He smiled faintly, lifting his hand in welcome. "Edo back yet?"  
Havoc shook his head. "Alphonse says he left on foot, so you shouldn't worry about him smashing up the car again." He shrugged. "He's hurt. Has every right to be. The kid was way out of line. And I think that we might give everybody a few days to calm down before we get it sorted out. Kids his age…maybe I can talk to him, get him to see this objectively. Maybe he'll take it back."  
"I'm not holding my breath." Roy didn't look hopeful. "Well, he damn well won't listen to me, if that's the way he feels. And I'm guessing Teddy's pretty upset, right? Edwin is technically her alchemic disciple."  
Havoc sighed a little. "Furious. Maman's letting her vent a little before getting her to settle down. Says she's going to jerk a knot in Edwin's tail for being a 'snotty little bastard'. She's very protective of you., my friend. She figures Edouard can take care of himself—most of the trouble that comes after him is invited in, it seems. But if anyone hurts her Taisa, she's ready to load up both barrels and start blowing people's heads off. _Figuratively_, of course."  
Mustang chuckled slightly. "Don't be too sure. You know the old saying, 'friends will give you a place to hide, and real friends will give you a place to hide bodies.' When I told you an Elric will lay down his or her life for a loved one, I wasn't joking. They will…and they have, on occasion. The night we met Teddy and Hughes saved neck—possibly even my life. Didn't know me. Didn't ask. They just saw I was being beaten and about to be assaulted—"  
"_Mon Dieu_! Was this at Berkeley?"  
"Yeah. Funny. I don't remember seeing Queer Bashing listed as a team sport when I accepted the scholarship. But there I was, and those two swooped down out of nowhere and ran straight into that gang like a pair of hippy avengers. Hughes got a microphone out of Teddy's gear bag and was whipping that damn thing in arcs like Roger Daltrey, screaming like mad. And Teddy grabbed her Nikon and shot enough incriminating pictures to get the whole damn lacrosse team expelled." He sipped his coffee, quietly for a moment. "Twenty four hours later I had a new home. Two months later—in fact it was on Thanksgiving night of 1976—the three of us became lovers. And five months later Teddy introduced me to Edward."  
Remy nodded. "Hughes runs over me with an RV, and before I know it I've settled down with an alchemist—took less than a week."  
"And expecting your first child," Roy lifted his cup in salute.  
"Indeed, for which we both know I have you to thank."  
"Hmmm. Indirectly, I suppose. I don't remember much of Amestris. Bits and flashes now and then. That's better than being haunted by the past the way the Colonel was. Maybe…I don't know…"  
"Roy," Remy sat down on the edge of the bed. "You should know that Teddy and Alphonse are both noticing little…inconsistencies. Finding that events of the past that they remember don't jive with what everyone else remembers."  
"Like not remembering that she and I have an intimate history?"  
"Which she believes was never consummated. Oh, not that it worries me, my friend," Havoc assured him with a grin. "I know that you would have been very good to her—"  
"—was good to her, and it's a tiny blow to the ego to know the one woman I made love to has no recollection of it at all--  
"—and if she does remember, hopefully she'll realize it is nothing she needs to be anxious about. But—well, I remember before those two went through the Orlando 5 Gateway and they were cramming everything in sight in your pockets? Everything from water purification tablets to disposable cameras and Sharpies. They had a pair of letters from Ed, the ones that came out of the vault in Los Angeles."  
Roy sat up straight. "What about them?"  
"I caught hold of Teddy right as she and her father were pulled though. I didn't let go of her. And when we got back to the hotel, we undressed her and got her into a bath, to warm her up. Gracia and I went through her stuff—that's how we found the flute she transmuted and the crystal she shaped from the cave rock. I also found a baggie full of dirt and another full of pebbles and rock fragments."  
"A piece of home, Alphonse called it."  
"Right. Ed asked me if we had the letter. Said it was very personal and was only to be read if he died or they couldn't get back. Ed wanted it back in his vault. Roy—she didn't have it. Neither did Alphonse, and he didn't have his own, either.  
Roy looked suddenly sober. "Either they were consumed in the Gateway—""Or, for some reason, both letters were left in Amestris, 1951. Mon frere, was there anything in those letters we should be worried about?"

**AMESTRIS, 2001**

"A project for school, you say?"

"Yeah, Dad. I mean, isn't there this thing called the Legacy Law, allowing families and identified disciples of alchemists to gain access to some of the personal papers in their archives?"

His father looked up from his microscope. "Not the research diaries. Mostly the published works, letters. Articles written about them. It's good to see you're taking an interest in Russell and Fletcher, Josh. I can email the admin for an access pass. Probably get it for you in a day or two. Hey, we could go together—" "No, that's okay!" Josh. "I—I mean, that's good, Dad, but I'll want to go after school. Got stuff to do on the weekend."

Whew, that was too close, Josh Tringham told himself as he headed back for his room. Once I get that damned pass I can poke around and see what kind of dirt I can dig up on the Fullmetal Faggot and the Flamer. "Hope I hit pay dirt, or they're gonna take the price of that pizza right out of my ass…"

**Risembool East, Tokyo— November 22--Thanksgiving 2007**

It started with a puff of smoke, really…

Remy wanted his mother to give up cigarettes. Jeanne-Marie wanted Teddy to stop drinking Coca Cola, which Teddy has been addicted to since childhood. Teddy wanted Alphonse to quit fretting and worrying obsessively about Everything That Might Go Wrong when the time came for Teddy to give birth. Alphonse wanted Edward to stop peppering the air with foul language every time he opened his mouth, arguing that he didn't want his granddaughter to be exposed to such vile profanity—which Edward seems to regard as a high art. Ed wanted me to stop making remarks about his age and height. Now, really--is it _my_ fault that he takes offense when I remind him that he's too short to ride Space Mountain and old enough to have given Hitler the finger?

Havoc and I? Shit. We just wanted everybody to _shut the fuck up, calm the hell down and get off each other's backs._

Everybody was on edge, thanks to the ugly blowup on Thanksgiving Day, when our nephew Edwin essentially told Edward and I we were a pair of faggots and no kin to him. Now you _know_ Edward. You know he shrugged, got up from the table, grabbed his coat and stomped out alone into the snow, fists jammed in his pocket, head down and his face carefully arranged in one of those Elrician scowls that wards off all but the very young and the very brave. Alphonse shut himself up in the library with a half-dozen cats to comfort him. Teddy stomped around the penthouse, singeing the air with profanity in several languages, including what sounded like Mandarin Chinese, which she probably picked up from watching _Firefly_ with her dad. Remy cleaned up the remains of our brunch, washed the dishes, and was wise enough to let Teddy wind down before gently reminding her that this was a thirteen year old _kid_ she was damning to the seventh inner circle of hell, not to mention he was soon to be groomed to begin his studies in alchemy under her guidance.

It was early, but I decided to hell with everybody, grabbed a book, my iPod and my pet rat and curled up in bed like a lazy bastard, listening to jazz and letting Einstein forage in my pocket for concealed yogurt drops. At one point he crawled down my shoulder, struggled up the summit of Ed's pillow and peed all over it. I was in such a foul mood that I simply flipped the damn pillow over. Thwarted, Einstein promptly decorated the pillowcase with a half dozen or so 'rat raisins' and foofled triumphantly.

Before I could flick the offensive pellets into the trash, Remy let himself in, worried about Edo and surprisingly, worried about _me_. He's a deep one, that Cajun. Intuitive to the point that he's almost a little scary sometimes. We talked at length and eventually I crawled out of bed and made some fresh coffee. I could hear Alphonse snoring gently—probably stretched out on the library couch with old Pinako draped over his chest, purring loudly in his ear. Teddy was in the computer room, watching an illegally downloaded episode of Doctor Who and IM'ing Gracia. She apologized for losing her temper and said she'd try and talk things out with Edwin once she'd had some time to cool off. "You guys seen Edo since brunch?" she asked.

"Maybe we'd better go look for him," Remy suggested. "What about Maman?"

"No idea, although I think she was going out for some fresh air, she said."

Havoc's eyes began to flash cold blue fire. "Breath of _smoke_, more likely. _Je n'y crois pas à ces conneries_!"

I glanced at Teddy. "Translation?"

She grinned at her lover. "He says he can't believe her bullshit. "Darlin', when we first met you were still trying to kick your own nicotine habit. I'll never forget the way you used to shove those damned carrots in your mouth so you had something to keep you occupied. Hughes used to email me and say, 'so—how's Carrot Boy doing?'"

"Remind me to kick his ass next time I see him," Havoc answered curtly. "Note that I've never made cracks about his habit of shoving those damned pictures in our faces every time we turn around. And you'll note that I've never flashed your ultrasounds around, either."

"For which our daughter will undoubtedly be grateful. Personally, I think they look a little creepy. Poor Gracia, " she sighed. "He went completely crackers when Elysia was born. Shoved a thousand dollar camcorder right between Gracia's legs and she got so mad she kicked it right across the delivery room and into the hazardous waste bin. Perfect shot. Lady should have been scouted by the NFL."

"Speaking of annoying people," I cut in, "let's go find Edo. Need anything while we're out?"

"_Yeah_." Her grin was brimming with malice. "An ice cold bottle of the bubbly brown Elixir of Life that Maman says is going to rot Izumi's teeth—even before she _has_ any!" She paused for a moment. "And some Pocky. That's the crack of snacks—and Taisa, _you_ got me hooked, damn you!"

Well…didn't I say _everybody_ was ragging each other's ass about _something_?

Ed had run into Ai-san in the teashop down the road and had joined her for sweet bean cakes and green tea. Our housekeeper has a remarkably soothing effect on my combustible lover and he had actually been good mannered enough to escort her home, carrying her shopping for her—which actually annoys the hell out of Ai-san, making her feel like she's a fragile old lady, which she emphatically is _not_, believe me. We took the short cut home through the park, stopping at the drink kiosk to get a bottle of the contraband soda Teddy craved more than ever and a enough packets of Pocky to share around.

About a block from the house we found her, half-concealed in some shrubbery, puffing away like a fiend. Havoc snuck up behind her and whacked his sainted mother right between the shoulders.

She whirled around, belching smoke and patois obscenities, and planted one of her size nine Tony Lama cowboy boots right into her son's crotch. _"__Nom de dieu de bordel de merde_—REMY! _Mon Dieu_, what have I done?"

"You fucking maniac!" Ed shouted.

"Don't call my mother a fucking maniac!" Remy was gagging and turning crimson but that didn't prevent him from looking exceptionally tall, muscular and threatening.

"Knock it off, Ed!" I told him firmly. "Pick on somebody your own size—if you can _find_ one!"

"Goddamn you, Mustang! I hate your fucking guts!" He grabbed at my sleeve and the bottle of contraband soda hit the ground at our feet, bursting like a bomb and dousing us all.

"_Coca-Cola_!" Jeanne-Marie rounded on me now, eyes blazing. "You—you'd poison your own unborn child? What kind of a monster are you?"

All this shouting and swearing had summoned Alphonse, heading to the corner market for some cat food. I tend to forget at times just how imposing my 'brother-in-law' really is. Broad-shouldered like Havoc, but of a heavier build—and very little of it is pudge. This is a man who can pick up his older brother with little effort and hurl him across a dojo as easily as Elysia could fling a stuffed bunny.

"_I…HAVE…HAD…ENOUGH!!"_

If I had had any urine in my bladder I'd have disgraced myself on the spot. Those hazel-bronze eyes burned holes into our foreheads, and, quite suddenly, all of us had shrunk down to Edward's size—from sheer _terror_.

Alphonse looked mad enough to bite our heads off, chew them to ribbons and spit the leftovers down our necks.

"_You!"_ he jabbed a finger sharply into his brother's chest, "are going to _shut your mouth_, and if you say one more swear word, _so help me_ Edward, I'm going to turn you over my knee and _spank you_ like a child!" He shot me an equally angry glare. "_You_ just love to egg him on, Taisa! You're every bit as bad, and I want you to stop it, right now!"

He regarded Jeanne-Marie sternly. "You complain about Teddy drinking soda and eating the wrong foods--and you're sneaking cigarettes, knowing bloody well that you could _die_ of lung cancer—and Izumi would lose her only grandmother! It's hypocritical, and it's _wrong_."

Havoc didn't budge. "What about me, sir?"

Alphonse looked suddenly weary. "You shouldn't let S me get so riled up over things like this. I'm…well…I'm not helping matters either, am I?"

We stood in silence, avoiding one another's eyes. "Let's go home then," said Havoc softly…

26 November, 2007

…and of course, we were _painfully_ polite to one another all weekend long…

"Taisa? What the fuck is going on around here? Is it that business with Edwin?"

We were sitting in the nursery, where Teddy was putting the final touches on the small shrine she had started a week ago. Just a shelf, really, but it was over the head of Izumi's crib and contained a few personal totems that Teddy imagined would bring positive _chi_ to her daughter's room. A pebble from Strawberry Fields, where she always prayed to one of her most personal of household saints, John Lennon. A twig from Glastonbury Tor. A tiny clay statue of Isis she'd bought in a Cairo bazaar, joined by an image of Kwan Yin my mother had placed above my own crib when I was a baby. A framed portrait of Winry. A vase of fresh flowers and a candleholder made from a single chunk of raw rose quartz. Strangest of all was carving of a snake, adorned with rainbow dots and stripes. "That was a gift from a Pitanjara woman Daddy and I met in Australia. She said that it was the Rainbow Serpent—she said that our clan was haunted by Green Lizard man, a trickster that means us harm. She said that the Rainbow Serpent will protect us. Sounds a lot like Dambala, who is sacred to the swamp magics of Remy's people. And there's the serpent on our crest as well…just…I don't know…"

"…seemed like a good idea?" I teased her gently. "Makes about as much sense as some people hanging crosses or pictures of Krishna or other saints in a nursery. If it works for you, hey…." I examined the pebble from Strawberry Fields—I had brought it back to her after a New York trip twenty years ago, amazed that she'd kept it all these years. "And no, it's not all about Edwin. I think everybody's just, I don't know…_tense_. _Waiting_. And it's hardest on you, I know."

"I'm so damn tired." She leaned against the side of the crib and shook her head. "And I'm so damn scared."

I slid my arms around her shoulders, letting her lean on me. "Are you sorry you didn't—"

"_No._ As if I would undo your child…even if you don't remember making her in Amestris…._fifty goddamned years ago_."

"If you and Alphonse hadn't gone through the Gate, gone back in time ," I told her gently, "I wouldn't be here. And my Amestrian self would have died a miserable death, strapped in a wheelchair and shitting in a diaper and being fed mush by some condescending little nurse. My pride would have been taken from me. It was no way for a soldier to die."

Teddy stared up at me for a long time. Finally, she drew the silver pocket watch from around her neck and rubbed her thumb over the raised lion-de-mer crest. "Sometimes…when you talk like that….I can close my eyes and see him again."

"You loved him."

"In a way…yes." She looked thoughtful. "What I felt for him was my love for you and Edward's love for him….and…yes…there was a _spark_ between us , so to speak. I came to him out of duty. An act of Tantric Alchemy. I came away from that experience whole and healed on many levels. I…I don't regret it…I don't think."

She touched her belly gently. "And I don't regret _her_. Not any more."

Dinner that night included a special surprise. "Taisa, Teddy tells me that this was your favorite dessert when Winry used to make it back in your college days." Remy shared a conspiratorial grin with Teddy. "Maman remembered this cake. They used to serve it at the _fais do-dos_ on Saturday nights, only they called it Burnt Sugar Cake."

Behind her back, _we_ used to call it 'Better Than Sex' cake. It's hard to describe if you've never tasted it. A buttery, rich yellow cake with a sort of not-frosting-not-exactly-fudge-not-quite-fondant glaze poured thickly over the top of butter and cream and caramelized sugar, and in the middle a delicious mess of that same glaze mixed with whole handfuls of chopped pecans.

Absolute bliss with a tall glass of ice cold milk—but since the appearance of milk in anything other than a baby's bottle provoked Ed to make theatrical gagging noises, we settled for vanilla bean ice cream, also home made.

Edward, cynical as ever, studied his slice with a jaundiced eye. "Can't be as good as Winry's," he groused.

I whacked him on his metal wrist with a fork. The tines vibrated loudly. "Shut up, Edward. Don't insult the cook." I nodded to Havoc's mother. "_I__tadakimasu_, Jeanne-Marie-san."

After a few blissful bites, I leaned back and sighed. "Good as Mom's?" Teddy asked eagerly.

"Incredible." I told them solemnly, "I just saw the God that Edo doesn't believe in."

Alphonse was smiling widely. "Really, Nii-san. It's perfect!"

He scowled. "Bet it's not."

Jeanne-Marie faced him down. "Bet it is, you little—"

"Maman! Please!"

"—bet it's _not_," Ed insisted stubbornly. "Care to wager?"

"If it isn't, I'll personally wax your car. And if it is…." She shot me a conspiratorial grin, "you have to wait on Taisa, hand and foot, for the rest of the night!"

"Taken! And don't skimp on the third coat either!" He shoveled a big forkful into his mouth, prepared to fire off a stinging retort…

…then he slumped back in his seat. He closed his eyes. He chewed. _Slowly_—a first for him. After a while, he swallowed.

"Well??"

He buried his face in his hands. "_Shit!"_

Teddy and Remy hugged their _maman_. Al looked nostalgic and slightly misty-eye'd.

And I….got an evil idea. "Finish your cake, old man," I told my lover. "You've got a long night ahead of you." I cornered him when he skulked off to the kitchen for a refill of coffee. "Come here, Edward." I commanded.

Of course he ignored me—this is _Edward_, after all.

I grabbed him by his belt and yanked him around. "What the fuck do _you_ want, Shithead?" he growed.

I held up a cautioning finger. "Ah-ah-ah! I don't want to hear a word out of you, Asshole. You just lost a wager in front of the whole damn family." I moved in closer and caught his ponytail with one hand, covering his mouth with the other. "_Now_," I leaned in, breathing softly in his ear, "you're going to make good on it, understand?"

His golden eyes went wide but he nodded. I backed him against the dishwasher with the pressure of my hips alone. He blinked, and I felt a slight shiver pass through him. He was getting the idea. _Good._ "Get in the shower, old man." I rocked my hips against his groin. "In fifteen minutes I want to see you naked, scrubbed from head to toe, laid out across the bed—and I don't want to hear one goddamned word out of you. You _will_ be ready. You _will_ be obedient. And," I moved my hand from his ponytail and laid it over his zipper, "you will be hard for me_._ _Do you understand?_"

I went back to the table, enjoyed another slice of that amazing Burnt Sugar Cake and a second cup of coffee. "Where's Nii-San?" Alphonse fretted.

"Scrubbing the shower, sorting the laundry, and hand washing my boxer shorts, after which he will make the bed—with hospital corners, of course—polish my shoes, dust my bookcase and clean the rat cage."

Jean-Remy and Teddy exchanged knowing smiles. "I think he's full of shit. _D'accord_, cher?"

Teddy winked at me. "_C'est vraiment,_ mon amour. Need anything to tie him up with?"

Alphonse nearly inhaled his fork. Jeanne-Marie cackled wickedly. "Panty hose," she suggested. "It doesn't leave marks."

An hour later, I toweled my hair dry, brushed my teeth, slipped into my _yukata_ and _geta_ and entered the bedroom, waiting to see if the Fullmetal Asshole had actually obeyed me.

Well…sort of. He was only half hard, and he was pissed as hell. He opened his mouth to tear into me--and then obediently shut it. Glancing up at my traditional clothing, I saw his cock stir with renewed interest. Quickest way to get my lover in the mood is to either wear my native dress…or to put on something dark blue with a high collar, which no doubt reminds him of the uniform I wore during our days in Amestris. One of these days I'll get some cosplay tailor to make me a replica of my old military dress…and then I'll _really_ wear him out…maybe over a desk or filing cabinet. Mmmmm. The thought of having Edward like that drew my immediate attention back to my own groin, which was screaming for attention.

Speaking of screaming…

Before I went back to the table I dished up a few scoops of that wonderful homemade vanilla bean ice cream into a porcelain bowl and stashed it in the freezer. It was still more or less frozen. I placed it on the bedside table. "You know, Edo, Jeanne-Marie's cake was very good…but I considered it part of the dinner. Dessert is something you savor afterwards." I tugged a pair of brownish wrinkled lengths from my pocket, the severed legs of a pair of donated maternity panty hose Teddy would obviously not be needing in a week or so. He stared up at me as I tied them in loose loops to the bed posts. "Your hands, sir," I ordered. "I won't tie you as long as you keep your hands on the post. Just slip your wrists through the loops…like so. Good."

From my other pocket I produced a corked bottle. It was labeled "Kama Sutra Oil Of Love", and when I tugged out the stopper we could both smell the delicious aroma of vanilla and cream. "I've had my pot roast and my carrots." I slid my feet out of my _geta_, kicking them under the bed. "I've had my coffee and cake." I lit the candles beside the bed and clicked off the light switch. Then, slowly, I untied my _yukata_. "_Now_, Edowado," I purred, "I want _dessert_."

I stood before my captive in the flickering candlelight, making him watch me, holding his eyes with my own. I dribbled a little of the sweet golden oil over my chest. "Do you like vanilla?" I asked him. "Some people say," my hands began to trail slowly down my belly, "That vanilla is synonymous with boring and unadventurous. I disagree." Another turn of the bottle. Rivulets of sweetness now trickled down below my navel. "You love chocolate. I know. But _vanilla_ is a sensual journey all on its own." "Open your mouth," I ordered softly. I offered my finger. He grabbed at it frantically with his teeth, sucked it eagerly. "You like it, don't you?" He nodded, biting back a whimper. "_Good_." I leaned in closer, "You're going to have _more_…all you can take. Because tonight," I laid my hand on the inside of his thigh, "I…am…going…to make…you…_melt_."

"So," Alphonse asked nervously to the family lingering around the table. "Anybody up for a game of _Uno_?"

The very mention of the word _up_ made Havoc blush and Teddy look wicked.

"Don' know about the children," Jeanne-Marie tossed a glance at the younger couple, "Look to me dey _down_ for a leetle 'Go Fish'."

Teddy stood up abruptly, jerking Havoc to his feet. "And on _that_ note," the Cajun grinned, "_au revoir_, chers_!"_

I don't believe in this _seme/uke_ bullshit, not in my relationship. Ed does tend to be the aggressor much of the time, but it's more that 'I'm older and more worldly wise' crap than anything else. Ha! Considering that at the tender age of eighteen I went from absolute virgin to Tantric initiate in a triad with a man _and_ a woman, I don't think he has jack shit to brag about. I lost my virginity to Mayland Hughes _and_ Teddy Elric—abandoned it is more like it. Hughes nailed me first in early October of '75, and that Thanksgiving, on the night of the Beggar's Banquet, he guided Teddy and I into our first time together. I was inside her, he was inside me and believe me when I tell you, any innocence I might have had before that memorable night was chucked into the trash with the remainders of our feast.

This is the very reason why I love to turn the tables on the little bastard.

_God_dam, I love this man. Feels like my heart is going to crack, going to split wide open. Like I can't hold it, all this emotion.. God, I have to hold him, have to taste his mouth, want to cry it feels so good…_ohhh…ashiteru, my Edowado!_ I tell him, over and over. _Love you…oh god…love you so much…_

He is shouting so loud everybody can hear him. If Alphonse hasn't grabbed for his iPod, he will. Makes him embarrassed to hear us at play. Knowing Teddy and Remy, that Cajun's got his face between her legs right now or she's down on her knees, treating him to one of her truly artistic blowjobs…and I should know. I taught her _how_. As for Jeanne-Marie…hope she doesn't run out of batteries or she'll sprain a finger. There is so much Goddam sexual energy swirling through this room it feels like it will bleed through the walls.

And that's all to the good. There isn't enough love in this world.

And suddenly I'm the one who is screaming

Tearing the pillows out from under my love, I fall into his arms, not at all surprised by the tears that mingle with the sweat on my face.

I burrow my face into his chest and he cradles me tenderly, kissing my hair.

"You little shit," he whispers tenderly.

"Asshole," I murmur back, the taste of vanilla and my lover still sweet on my tongue.

And after a fuck of such epic proportions, only one thing could have dragged us, sticky and sore, out of bed and straight into our clothes:

The sound of Alphonse Elric going amuck in the kitchen, screaming, "THIS IS IT! OH GOD! THE BABY'S COMING!" as his newest grandchild prepared to launch herself into the world—into a family where love might not always meet all the proper guidelines and conventions but was absolutely guaranteed to last past death, through the Gateway, and Beyond…

…..TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Chapter 3

…And after a fuck of such epic proportions, only one thing could have dragged us, sticky and sore, out of bed and straight int

_…And after a fuck of such epic proportions, only one thing could have dragged us, sticky and sore, out of bed and straight into our clothes—the sound of Alphonse Elric running amok in the kitchen, screaming at the top of his lungs:_

_"THIS IS IT! OHHH GOD…THE BABY'S COMING!"_

Ed was in such a blind panic he grabbed my jeans by mistake, not noticing the error until he stood to zip up. "God_damnit_!" he growled, his automail hand literally shredding them off his hips.

"Those were _new_," I pointed out.

He shot me a poisonous look and threw the tatters across the room. "Gimme my goddamned pants, Mustang." We'd have launched into another of our epic spats if it hadn't been for the muffled cry we heard from the kitchen, followed by some of the most pungent Cajun patois I've ever heard in my life:

_"Nom de dieu de bordel de merde!_ ("_Goddamn-fucking-shit-almighty_") _Goddamn you, you sawed off little shit, get your ass out here now before I drag you out by your motherfucking ponytail!_ _C'est vraiment de ta faute!_ (_"It's all YOUR fault!"_)"

"She can't talk to you like that!" Ed protested.

I pointed at my own hair, neatly trimmed above my collar. His was currently long enough to brush the middle of his back. "And as for being 'sawed off', I'm 5'11"."

_"Who are you calling—"_

The door cracked open. Alphonse poked in his head. He was pale and sweaty and looking incredibly embarrassed. "Must be the hormones kicking in," he stammered. "Sh-she'd like a word with you, Ni-isan."

A low moan was followed, this time, by a few choice _bon mots_ in my native language. _"EDO!_ _Yowayowashii! Kocha koi!_ _("ED! You chickenshit! Come out here and get your ass kicked!"_)"

Pushing Alphonse to one side, Ed strode into the kitchen with as much dignity as a 102-year-old man can muster after having his balls smeared with vanilla ice cream, being reamed to the point of babbling insanity and now—horror of horrors—having his disciple insult his height _and_ his honor. "Sounds like somebody's getting ready to have a baby!" he boomed cheerfully.

She _growled_ at him.

According to Alphonse, the dying Colonel mistook Teddy for a Valkyrie. I stared at her from the doorway, seconds before she hurled a copy of _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ right at my lover's head. Her chestnut hair had morphed into serpentine tatters, through which blazed a pair of demonic eyes which reminded me in no small way of Yao the Psychotic Psiamese moments before launching himself at Ed's naked ankle.

Valkyrie, my ass. She'd transmuted into a goddamn _Fury._

"_YOU!_" She clawed the air with one hand, gesturing towards her heaving belly with the other. "_YOU_…DID…_THIS_…TO…_ME_!"

"Tricia Edward Elric, what the hell's gotten into you?" he yelped. The spine of the book caught him right above the left eyebrow, leaving a mark that was already starting to swell.

She shot across the kitchen and caught him by the sleeves. "What got into me?? An arrogant little _pissant_ and his one-eyed smirking bastard, that's what got into me! All I did was let you borrow my body so you could pass through the Gate and say goodbye to Colonel Sarcasm, and what did you do? You fucked your brains out using _my_ body. I guess the words _pull out_ aren't in your vocabulary, are they? You just wanted to ride your goddamned Mustang, didn't you?"

Ed's jaw dropped, and before he could fire off a retort that might get Teddy twenty to life for aggravated homicide, I pressed my hand tightly over his mouth. "For once in your life," I hissed in his ear, "let me do the talking." His head jerked in agreement.

I approached her cautiously, hands open, palms up, same as I would do if confronted with an angry Rotweiler. "Teddy? I'm here—let me help you."

I'll never forget the terror in her eyes—almost as bad as the day they told her she had cervical cancer ten years ago. She stammered out my name and held out her arms, mutely pleading for me to _do something_. I gathered her close and kissed her, alarmed by her damp, icy skin. She was shivering in pain and making small frightened noises like a child trapped in a bad dream. I took her face in my hands and forced her to look into my eyes. "I know you're scared. I know it hurts. Remy and I are going to take care of you. We're going to get you to the birthing center. And if it doesn't bother Havoc, I'll stay with the two of you during delivery, all right?"

She blinked up at me. "You'd—you'd do that? It wouldn't make you sick? It's going to be pretty bloody and disgusting. You haven't seen the pictures Hughes sent us."

"Yes I have, and I'm going to beat the shit out of him first chance I get." I could have killed him, sending those goddamn jpegs. Birth may be messy and painful, but Teddy didn't need it flung in her face like this, even if that wasn't what Mays had in mind when he sent the files. "You should be pissed at _me_, not just Edo. After all," I grinned slightly, "he may have been holding the loaded gun—but in the end _I_ was the one who fired it."

"And apparently you weren't shooting blanks, you son of a bitch." She bit her lip suddenly and blanched.

"And, okay—maybe Edward _did_ get you into this mess," I shot him a half-apologetic glance over my shoulder, "but remember how great he was with you when you were little? Your daughter is going to love her Uncle Edo as much as you do. I know right now you want to kill him…but remember how much he loves you, even if he _is_ a selfish little prick sometimes—"

"HEY!"

I glared at him. He opened his mouth to argue, then wisely shut it. Instead he mumbled something that sounded like "I'm sorry", joining us to gingerly stroke her sweaty hair. "Kiddo?" he ventured cautiously.

She didn't look at him. "_Edo_."

"_Love_ you."

After a painful silence, she flung her arms tightly around him. "Damn right you do."

"Don't be scared, Kiddo. You'll be fine. Besides, I delivered a baby back in Amestris. It went great. You're in good hands, I promise."

Our little Hallmark moment was interrupted by the Havocs, armed with suitcases and a small cooler. The expressions on our faces must have alarmed Jean-Remy. "_Mon dieu! Petite_, are you all right?"

"_Non_," she told him truthfully, "but I will be when this is all over."

"Then let's get you to Toho." He glanced at Jeanne-Marie. "Will you call down and tell them we were coming?"

By this time, all of us had the Toho Women's Birthing Center on speed dial, just in case. "Huh! Somethin's wrong with my phone," she muttered. "Not dialing right, or I'm not getttin' an answer. Papa Alphonse? You dial it, yes?"

Nothing. My phone, Ed's phone, even Teddy tried it. "Toho is the best in Tokyo—probably the best in Japan. I mean, it's not like they would have closed down or anything….d'ya think?" Teddy passed her Razr to Ed. "Keep trying, will you? Daddy, try the land line." Her face contorted sharply. "I'm….owwwwwwwww!...I'm going to sit down a minute."

"Maman? What do you think? Should we head on out or wait until we reach Matsumine?"

"Let me see how she's getting' on—Teddy, cher, let's go in the bedroom for a minute—" Jeanne-Marie was about to steer Teddy into our bedroom, which was in a potentially embarrassing state of chaos. The room reeked of sex and vanilla, the sheets were wet and stained and our clothing was flung all over the carpet. Ed blocked the doorway, grinning sheepishly. "Uhhh, let's take her into Al's room," he offered. Jeanne-Marie just scowled at him and shoved him aside, guiding Teddy to the bed and closing the door firmly behind her.

Five minutes later, Mrs. Havoc emerged. She glared at me, then at Edward. "You boys are _sick_, you know that?"

I heard the faint _creak-whirrr_ of automail fingers clenching into a fist, which Edward wisely jammed into his pocket. "Well? How much time do we have?"

"Enough. If we head out now." She nodded to her son. "You can carry her, yes?"

"Of course!"

"_D'accord_. Gentlemen, get your shit together. We leavin'."

"Move over, Ed. You drive like a maniac even when there _isn't_ a crisis."

Since Teddy and the Havocs had moved into the flat down the hall, Alphonse decreed that we needed 'family transportation'—something roomy enough to hold six adults and an infant seat. I located a second hand Toyota minivan that one of our neighbors was willing to loan out to us. After all, here in Japan it's not the cost of the car that's the problem—it's the cost of upkeep, the mandatory _shaken_ inspections, insurance and the hideously expensive gasoline. It's not out of the ordinary for someone to 'give' you a car, if you agree to pay half the expenses. We'd worked it out neatly, and Miyabi-san assured us that we'd have full access to the van around the expected delivery date.

We'd piled into the freight elevator and carefully bundled Teddy into the middle seat, with Alphonse on one side, Remy on the other. Jeanne-Marie climbed into the 'way-back' seat with all our luggage and paperwork, while I shoved Edward out from behind the wheel. He buckled himself into the passenger side and I cranked up the engine. "Better let it run a few minutes," I told them. "It's really cold out there."

About a minute after I switched on the heater Alphonse spoke up. "What—is—that—_smell?_"

"_Baise-moi!"_ Havoc made a disgusted face, looked down at the floor of the van and hastily lifted his feet. "Someone puked all over the floor back here!"

Jeanne-Marie chimed in from the rear. "God_damn_! Anybody got a Kleenex?"

"I've got a handkerchief," Ed offered, digging into his breast pocket.

"You're not going to want it back," she shuddered. "There's something…_quelle horreur!_ Roy, just how well do you know your neighbors?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" I shot back. "Do you know how hard it was to find a van we could use?"

"What's that in the ash tray?" Teddy peered over her father's shoulder to the small compartment in the passenger side arm rest. "SHIT! Ohhhh, that's revolting!"

"_What_, goddamn it??"

"I ain't touching that!" Jeanne-Marie barked. "_Jamais!_ Teddy, watch where you put your hands! God knows what we might catch in this heap."

I craned my neck to see what all the shouting was about. Poking out of the ashtray in the middle seat was…a _condom_. The kind they sell in those cheesy machines in public restrooms. You know the kind I'm talking about—"Sold For The Prevention of Disease Only", "Ribbed for Her Pleasure", "Exciting Colors—Try Them All!", "Real Fruit Scent", "Lubricated—Reservoir Tip". This one was strawberry, judging from the color of the ring poking out of the half-closed lid. The one plastered to the rear seat, the one Jeanne-Marie accidentally put her hand on, was one of those branded "Sold As A Novelty Only". It glowed in the dark.

Edward flipped on the overhead light. _Big_ mistake. The floor was littered with condom wrappers, crumpled swatches of Saran Wrap, empty beer bottles, puddles of…well…_recycled beer_, and a scattering of shrimp chips and bar snacks, crushed into the reeking carpet. Draped over the dashboard, what I thought was a scarf turned out to be a pair of rather pungent nylon panties, stained with what appeared to be love oil and adorned with pictures of Hello Kitty. I was guessing they'd been hastily yanked off and forgotten by Miyabi's date.

"Edward," I said softly, "if I test positive for herpes—"

"You caught it from the steering wheel," he nodded, looking ill.

Teddy spoke up from behind us. "Taisa? Can we get going? _Please_?"

"Shit! Will you _look_ at that?"

We pulled out through the gate into a total _whiteout_.

"Hey, did Miyabi put those snow chains on like he promised?"

"Didn't check."

"Goddamn it, Mustang! That shit's got to be ten inches deep! We'll never make it. Get out and check!"

"I'll check," said Remy. "You guys stay put, yes?"

"No, keep your feet dry, Remy. Ed'll go—won't you?"

My lover dashed around the van, peeked around the wheel wells, and scrambled back inside. "Yeah…chains on. Let's roll."

At that moment, the streetlights overhead flicked once or twice before blinking out all together. In the back seat, Teddy squirmed and moaned. "Crap," I muttered. "It's like driving on a skating rink! There's a good layer of ice all over the street under the snow! We should have gotten out earlier. Remy, why didn't you tell us Teddy was so close?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. "Teddy said we should wait until you two were…_ah_….?"

"You were fucking your brains out," Teddy finished. "I didn't want to go without either of you. If I'd known it was going to be more than a quickie, I'd have left you a note."

My lover snorted, "That's _his_ damn fault. He tied me to the bed and smeared ice cream all over my—"

"—anybody seen my iPod??" Alphonse cut in frantically.

A handful of drunken revelers stumbled out of a sake bar and right into the path of our van. I braked hard, skidded and bounced up on the curb. "Sorry! Everybody all right? Teddy? How are you?"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME?" she roared. "Goddamn you, Mustang!" I glanced nervously towards my lover. He looked inordinately pleased that I was getting the same scorching she'd unleashed on him back at the flat.

"Better check the tires," he suggested with a grin.

A cursory glance suggested that Miyabi-san had purchased his snow chains from the bargain bin at the 100 Yen store around the corner. They appeared to be made of some flimsy material, possibly the pop-tops from juice cans. The right front tire hissed ominously. I swore under my breath and yanked open the door on Edward's side. "Better call a taxi. We're screwed. We try to drive this heap any further and we're going to have a blowout."

Power was out all over the street, and the bartenders and restaurateurs were chasing their customers out into the frosty night. I pushed my way through the crowd of men leaving a shop nearby. "I need to use your phone," I told the shop owner. "My sister's in the van outside—she's having a baby. We're trying to get her to the Toho clinic across town."

"Not in this storm you're not," he assured me gleefully. "Power's out in half the city. You better bring her inside—"

"Go on, beat it!" A thickset man with a single, bushy eyebrow thumped me on the shoulder, but after the owner explained the situation he nodded once and headed out the door.

"Mendou-san will help. He can carry her," the owner, whose name was Maruchan, offered. "We don't have power in here either, but at least it's warmer than outside."

"You people got an extra flashlight we can use?"

"Jeanne-Marie? Look under the middle seat. Emergency kit is supposed to be down there. Grab it, will you?"

Alphonse looked worried when Mendou-san yanked open the van door. "Where are you taking her? Who are you?" The thickset man grunted that his boss was letting us shelter in their shop until we could get a taxi. Edward's brother brightened noticeably with relief. "Well, that's nice of him. Thank you, Mr.--?"

"I'm Mendou. You, _yan-ki_. Move outta the way," he grunted at Havoc.

Those blue eyes flickered dangerously for an instant. "She's my wife," he answered shortly, but climbed out of the way and helped Teddy out into the snow. Mendou-san, a hulking gorilla in a cheap suit, swung her effortlessly off her feet and marched back into the darkened shop, the rest of us hurrying in his wake.

There were two measly flashlights—ours and Mendou's. "Got any candles?"

The cashier allowed that they did, but added quickly, "They're inventory."

"Fine, we'll pay up when we leave," said Ed impatiently. "What kind of place is this, anyway?"

Mendou and the cashier grinned at each other. "_Toy shop_," they chimed in unison. Then they laughed like hell.  
I flicked the flashlight beam across the well stocked shelves that crammed the aisle. Edward chuckled nastily. "Guess we know where Miyabi shops for his lady friends." Row after row after row of pink latex, green and purple jelly, silicone and clear acrylic, shaped, carved, molded and sculpted into fantastic shapes that bore very little resemblance to actual human genitals, save for those bearing labels like "Cyberskin" and "molded from so-and-so's actual cock and balls!" and "squeezably real!"

"Check this out," I teased him, poking my finger at the True-To-Life-Colt Commodore Love Doll that stood forlornly in the shadows wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers with day-glo hearts printed all over them. "It vibrates in _three_ places."

"And unlike _you_, Mustang, a Love Doll doesn't bitch all the time," Ed smirked, "and if he pissed me off I could pull out the plug, stomp out the air and stuff him in the closet. Not to mention I'd save a fortune on Christmas and birthday presents."

"And you can hang your ties on his _bibitte_ (erection) when you're not playing with it," Jeanne-Marie pointed out. "Edouard, you _bioque _(moron)! Only a fool would rather ride a pink plastic Colt when there's a lively Mustang around!"

This riveting discourse was interrupted by a cry from Teddy. "_Monsieur_, do you have any place she can lie down?" Havoc pleaded.

"Someplace _clean_," Jeanne-Marie added quickly, remembering the condition of our bed. Apparently the only beds in the place had been…well…recently occupied by men and women who weren't immediate family. "Got anything clean to throw over them? If she starts to give birth we must think about cleanliness for the _bebe, non?"_

The golden phrase, 'starts to give birth' made them dive for their cell phones, trying to get through to the local taxi dispatcher. Teddy sank to her knees and Remy helped her lie down, her head and shoulders resting against his chest. "_Petite ange, _I'm so sorry," he whispered, brushing the damp hair back from her forehead. "I should have insisted. I should have gotten you to the clinic before the storm. You'd be—"

"—in the dark and cold, just like I am here. M'fault, love. I was the one who wanted to wait—_ah—aaahhhhh!_"

"Darlin', let me check you—you, Mendou? You and Mr. Maruchan—why don't you show the boys some—well, _whatever_. Just give us a minute alone with the flashlight, yes?"

"And no peeking," Remy warned darkly.

There were latex gloves in the condom aisle. "Put 'em on the tab," we told Maruchan, along with some generic lubricating jelly that thankfully didn't smell like pina coladas. Remy held Teddy who moaned and stifled a sob despite Jeanne-Marie's best efforts to be gentle. I could hear him whispering tenderly to her in French, telling her not to be afraid, reminding her how deeply he loved her and her child, kissing her again and again. I can't tell you what that meant to me, how it eased my mind, because truth to tell, this was _my_ child too. In the early days of her pregnancy I nursed private fears that Jean-Remy might not be willing to raise another man's child as his own, especially since Teddy and I have been a part of one another's lives for over three decades. To my great surprise he opened his heart not only to the child but to me as well. During the six months they'd spent with us in Tokyo I'd come to respect that Jean-Remy Havoc was not an ordinary man—as Teddy put it, "he wound up with that broad, beautiful chest because his heart is bigger than average." No offense to Hughes, but Havoc was truly the first man, in my eyes, who was _good enough_ for Teddy Elric. He is the best of men and the anchor who was keeping this whole insane situation from blowing completely to hell.

We lit one of the candles we had purchased. It had an odd, musky aroma. "Supposed to be 'pussy scented', according to the label," Ed pointed out.

"Bullshit."

One blonde eyebrow arched sarcastically. "How would you know?"

I smiled over my shoulder in Teddy's direction. "I was _hers_ before I was _yours_, asshole, or have you forgotten Berkeley?"

"Part of you is _still _hers." There was a fond look on his face as he remembered our early days together in California, back when I was a chemistry major and he was a visiting professor—and I was still in a triad with Teddy and Hughes. "I'm sure Havoc figured that out early on."

"It's different than it was when we were lovers. But…yeah, you're right. Is that because she and Alphonse went back through the Gateway to help me in my last life? Is that why we're so close now?"

"Taisa! She needs you!" It was Remy, looking genuinely worried. I hurried over and knelt down beside her, tucking her clammy hand tightly into my own.

"She needs us _both_," I told him. "Is it time?"

Jeanne-Marie nodded soberly. "Not on this filthy floor. Can we get her up on the counter? We need room to work. Alphonse!"

"Right here, Jeanne!"

"We need newspaper, some towels, scissors, and clean water—and is there anything we can put on the counter to pad it?"

Ten minutes later we brought Teddy to her delivery table.

Four half-inflated Colt Commando love dolls were laid face down across the service counter, their naked vinyl backs covered with copies of the local gay and lesbian street paper, _Nippon Rainbow News_. Remy laid his coat over the papers and my coat provided her a modesty drape so that Maruchan, Mendou and the cashier wouldn't see more than absolutely needful. Teddy pointed out that, while the whole arrangement was pretty damned unorthodox, it was surprisingly comfortable. "Kind of like Magic Fingers in a cheap hotel."

"How's that?"

She patted one the heads that hung grotesquely over the edge of the counter—it had a piratical eye patch and a mustachioed mouth open so wide you could see half-way down its latex throat. "Vibrates in three places!" Another contraction made her pant hard against the rapidly increasing pain. "Hughes is going to laugh his ass off when he hears about this," she gasped. "Wish he was here."

"No you don't." I kissed her fingers lightly and she pulled her nails out of the back of my hand. "He'd be up your _hako_ with a telephoto lens, and then Remy would have to kill him."

"Edouard! Get over here!" Jeanne-Marie was in no mood for jokes. "Papa Alphonse, you hold the flashlight." She tossed a pair of black latex gloves at my lover.

"What the fuck?"

"You _said_ you helped deliver a child once, _vraiment?_ So get over here and assist me."

"But—"

"Remy, get up there and hold her, like we practiced. Let her rest against your chest."

"But—"

"Taisa, you monitor her breathing. Make sure she stays in rhythm. You and Remy will have to watch her. If she gets into trouble I have to know, _d'accord?_ Edouard, where the hell are you?"

"But—" he spluttered a third time, "she's my niece! I—I mean, I…I can't look—"

"_I DON'T GIVE A MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN WHAT YOU SEE!_" Teddy screamed, her body going rigid. "_Help me_, Edo!"

"Teddy! C'mon! Don't tense up," I told her. "You're doing beautifully."

She closed her eyes and tears began dripping down her cheeks. "_Mama,_" she whispered. "Mama…_help me._"

I glanced over at Alphonse, leaning in close with the flashlight. Like a mantra, he was softly saying the same phrase over and over: "Winry…we need you…Winry…we need you…"

Edward, on the other hand was gnawing his bottom lip and muttering, "ohh shit….ohhh shit!" again and again. Then he smiled, glanced towards Teddy and laid his hand over her upraised knee. "_She's got black hair_." To my absolute astonishment, he reached down and gently touched the crown of Izumi's head. "_Hey, kiddo_," he told her. "Welcome _back_."

"Can I have some of that?"

"Huh? Sure."

"Thanks."

Three hours and two cab rides later we finally arrived at Toho Women's Clinic. The generator was up, and Teddy and little Izumi were hustled into an exam room while the rest of us headed for the family rooming-in suite that had been reserved for Ms. Trisha Rockbell and family—the alias made necessary to prevent a paper trail that would link Teddy's medical records with the records of her daughter's birth.

Izumi was doing fine and mother and daughter were both given warm baths, clean gowns and settled in for the remainder of the night. Remy and Teddy were now asleep, sharing a full size western-style bed. On the other side of the partition, Alphonse snored on the couch while Jeanne-Marie commandeered the rollaway bed. A pair of single futons had been laid out for Edward and I, but neither of us felt sleepy. There was a tiny rooftop Zen garden just outside our suite and that's where I found my lover, sipping coffee and watching the sleepy koi under a thin crust of ice in a patio pond much like we had at home.

It had been one hell of a night. Mays Hughes once commented that the Elric Family "is a bunch of _shit magnets_", swearing that an Elric can't wipe his or her ass without it turning into some sort of epic crisis. Izumi's birth would have unquestionably gone down in family history as the single most outrageous episode since the brothers left Germany with Fritz Lang before the second World War.

But…unfortunately…nobody was going to hear the tale, other than Hughes, Gracia, Alfons and Win-Sara, Teddy's older siblings. And maybe Edwin, her alchemic disciple, if he gets his head out of his ass and rejoins the human race.

"I don't want to lie to my child," Teddy told me the night she announced that she was pregnant as a result of a rite of Tantric Alchemy—with a man who had been dead now for _fifty years_.

A man who had been _me_. And I didn't want to lie to my child either, but for now—maybe for all time—this was how it had to be. One day, maybe, Izumi would receive her red coat, learn to draw arrays and be told the truth—that she had been Izumi Curtis, a powerful master of alchemy, who loved Edward and Alphonse Elric so profoundly that she took birth in their bloodline to look after their descendants and successors.

In the grey light of dawn we stood together, Edward Elric and I, as we had for over three decades of loving and fucking and fighting, and at that moment I swear I loved him more than I had when I was a kid of nineteen and he was only 70—and not looking a day over 40. I had just turned fifty. Ed would soon be 103, still without a single grey hair in his ponytail. Still able to infuriate and arouse me.

Always my lover. Soon to be my husband—and _that_ was going to be another nightmare, arranging our wedding this spring at the Gay resort on Ranamuerte. Why couldn't we just—"

"Ed?"

"What?"

"Give me your hand."

He glanced up at me. "Edward Elric, I take you as my lover and husband. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. And death is not going to part us."

He tossed the coffee mug over his shoulder into the snow. His arms slid around my shoulders. "Taisa Roy Mustang of the Miyazaki Clan, I take you as my lover and my husband, on BOTH fucking sides of the Gateway. And don't you dare make me chase you halfway around the world and Amestris to find you when we're born again, you little shit!"

We kissed for a long, long time. "So," I finally murmured against his cheek, "that's it, then. Everything else is legal window dressing."

"Yeah. This was the part that mattered."

"Should we tell 'em?"

He shook his head. "This is Izumi's birthday. Let's not steal her thunder."

I nodded and kissed him again. "We ought to drink a toast to her, except you broke the damn mug."

He shrugged. "Hell, just add it to the tab—along with half a dozen 'pussy-scented' candles—"

"—seven copies of the _Nippon Rainbow News_—"

"—_five_ pairs of 'ribbed-for-pleasure' latex gloves—"

"—_four_ Colt Commando blow up love dolls--"

"—that vibrate in _three_ places!"

"—which is _too_ much information!"

"—for _one_ SHIT MAGNET family—"

"_AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEEEEEEE!"_ We finished, laughing so hard several lights blinked on around us and one of the nurses came out to chase us back to our loved ones just as the sun rose over Tokyo…

(From the Alchemic Diaries of Taisa Roy Mustang)

Mardi Gras 2008, Risembool South (Sullivan's Island, Atlantic Coast, USA)

Eventually Alphonse will forgive me for interrupting his daughter's handfasting—but honestly, all I did was ask the bride a simple question:

_"Can I have my gloves back?"_

Whereupon chaos erupted…not that chaos isn't the norm in _this_ family.

While Ed and I were in the muddled mess of planning our own wedding, Teddy's lover, Jean-Remy Havoc, had managed to at least talk her into a 'trial run'—a Pagan handfasting for a year and a day—before she'd make the commitment of marrying him. On the one hand, he loved her the way Alphonse had loved her mother Winry—and that's saying a hell of a lot. On the other hand, I could understand Teddy's reluctance, which we were arguing about as I was helping her get ready for the handfasting rite, which would be celebrated on the beach at sunset and would continue until the last Havoc passed out…or until the last Elric got punched out. "Goddamn it, can't you lace this bodice any tighter?"

"Why don't you shove your breasts up a little higher," I bitched, yanking on the strings, "so I have more room to work with?"

"If I shove my tits up any higher I can wear them as earings." Nonetheless, she dug her hand inside the front of her Renfaire-type handfasting dress, yanked up two bountiful handfuls of what Hughes used to call her "great…._tracts of land"_ and then ordered me to haul away on the laces. "_Ooooff!_ Christ, I can hardly breathe! Good thing I'm not lactating any more, or I'd look like a goddamned Italian fountain!"

" Suck in your breath, Miss Scarlett," I taunted.

"Fuck you, Mustang—ohhh…now what's your problem, munchkin?" Sprawled across the bed, Izumi began to kick and fret softly. "You've already had a toxic waste spill, right? Are you wet again?"

I gathered up my goddaughter and checked for any leakage. "She's fine. Probably going to get a complex, though, seeing her former food source laced up and abused with that bodice. Can you even breathe in that contraption?"

"No," she chuckled. "But Havoc's gonna have a seizure when he gets a look at this dress. He may have to borrow my flowers to hide a spontaneous erection of epic proportions. Nothing like having a baby to turn a pair of tangerines into cantaloupes!"

"Yeah, he was always a sucker for big boobs. That's what got him paralyzed."

Teddy spun around so fast she popped her lacing. "_What the fuck did you say?"_

"Huh?"

"Taisa…._what_…did...you.._say_?" Before I could answer, Izumi's fussing changed to a contented coo—she does that when I hold her, for some damned reason. Teddy says she loves me already, but I'd hardly think she would have developed such excellent judgment at less than four months.

"Is it like looking in a mirror?" Teddy asked softly, one finger gently brushing the fine ebony hair out of her daughter's night-black eyes—oddly contrasted against Izumi's milk-pale skin. "She looks like she doesn't even _know_ me. Good thing you and Edo cobbled up a plausible explanation as to why my 'adopted' child looks uncannily like her godfather."

"Well," I joked, "you could always say Izumi is my child—which is essentially the truth—but that she was conceived in an act of Tantric Alchemy on the other side of the Gate with a one-eye'd Flame Alchemist who's been _dead_ for over half a century so he could be reborn on Earth as a half-Japanese bastard who's about to marry your 102 year old uncle…"

"….whom he was banging over the file cabinets and in the supply closet back at Central. _Riiiiiiight—"_

"—and that Truth restored what you lost from that hysterectomy--_just_ in time for you to conceive, since neither of you had the presence of mind to use a _condom_ for sex magic—"

I was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, seconds before Jeanne-Marie Havoc strode in, looking thoroughly pissed. "I'm gonna kill dat boy!" she growled. "T'ink he's gonna sulk and hide on today of all days! I caught 'im tryin' to slink off over de dunes. Caught 'im by 'is arm an' I said, 'you break your Aunt Tee's heart, you don' show up for her handfastin'. You know she want you dere, chile. You get your scrawny-assed self back to de house before I kick your tail, _d'accord_?' An' dat ungrateful little _connard_ (fool) said he wasn't gonna show 'is face where Roy an' Oncle Edouard might be togedder. _Il me rends dingue!_ (he's driving me nuts) You ask me—an' I _know _you didn't—I tell you de boy ain't worthy to be yo' alchemic disciple. Boy wanna _whole_ lot more ass kickin' before he turn out right, _vraiment?_"

Teddy shot me an apologetic look. I shrugged it off. "He's either going to get over this homophobic crap or he's not. But remember, Jeanne-Marie, Edwin's only a kid, really. I'm not sure what's eating him, but it could be something a lot deeper, and he's just lashing out at the two easiest targets—the family faggots."

She laid her hand on my shoulder. "_Cher_, you don' talk like dat about yourself aroun' me, _non?_ You an' Edouard an' Papa Alphonse—you de heart of dis family. An' you one of de best friends Jean-Remy's ever had. We get aroun' that little pissant, sooner or later. We get _le petit monsieur _Edwin Elric to dance at yo' weddin', when you and Oncle Edouard tie de knot. And speakin' of tyin' de knot, Teddy—I brought what you asked for. Remy's kept it all togedder. _Here."_

It was one of those leather briefcases that sports about a thousand locks on it—the kind presidential aides keep handcuffed to one wrist in the event of nuclear war. Only three people had the combination—the three "Red Coats" of the Elric family, those who have completed their alchemic training. Havoc, Jeanne-Marie and I still had a long, long way to go—and Edwin might not even get started at all unless he pulled his head out of his ass and got over his current homophobic phase.

Inside, I understood, were the few precious relics of that dangerous trip to Amestris that Alphonse and Teddy made a year ago. A handful of pebbles and a few scoops of actual dirt from the other side of the Gateway. Colonel Mustang's alchemic journals. A sealed letter to be presented to the Amestrian Authorities should Teddy return—far as we knew, Alphonse was still under threat of arrest as a war criminal for opening the Central gate and bringing the horror of Dietlinde Eckhart and the Thule Society to Amestris, resulting in countless deaths and widespread destruction. Al didn't dare return, and Ed wouldn't return without him. A silver pocket watch, given to Teddy by the Colonel after he tested her ability to transmute metal, wood and stone and determined that she had been more than adequately trained by Edward and Alphonse in spite of living in a world where _practical_ alchemy doesn't exist.

There were a few other mementoes and odds and ends—I assumed Teddy was taking 'something from home' as her 'something old'.

I hadn't expected it to be the damned _eyepatch_. "Can I see that?" I asked.

It was softened by age, but the fabric was still fairly stiff. Black cotton, lined with what felt like silk. Most likely he didn't want it to chafe, since the lower band actually went under his ear, if I was visualizing it carefully. I saw that there were a few grey hairs stuck in the buckles that adjusted its fit. Without thinking I held it to my nose. It had no odor. I pointed it out to Teddy. She shook her head. "Actually," she said quietly, "it smells like _you_."

Izumi crowed and a pale hand reached for the eyepatch. "She can't know it's the Colonel's," I muttered, moving it out of her reach."

Teddy looked thoughtful. "How much do we really know about the memories a _doppleganger_ carries, or how long they remain active? I mean, Edo thinks we carry them in, but forget everything in infancy. She _was_ Izumi Curtis, you know."

"And Wrath was just born to Hughes and Gracia—or so you suspect." Teddy tucked the eyepatch into her sleeve. "What other tokens have you got?"

"A turquoise ring from Jeanne-Marie—that's my 'something blue'. The 'something borrowed' are Daddy's array gloves in my pocket, and the 'something new' are these earings Gracia gave me last night."

"And the piece of silver for your shoe?"

She held up a small silver coin. "A sixpence that Hoenheim gave Edo when he first arrived on this side of the Gate for good and landed in London. That was before they both relocated in Munich. Every Elric bride has carried this coin since Daddy married Winry. Edo gave it to Winry for good luck and we've kept it in the family every since. Jeanne, can you tuck that in my slipper? If I lean over I'll bust this damn corset wide open again."

As Jeanne-Marie knelt down to put the sixpence piece in Teddy's right shoe, something occurred to me…something I hadn't thought of before now. Call it a _waking dream_ if you will…

_He hushed her gently, smoothing her hair as she broke down, sobbing softly against the lapel of his jacket. "Shhhhh…no tears, Tricia," he told her kindly. "Everything will be fine. You and Alphonse and Edward have already assured me this will go well. All I have to do to find Edward again and be reborn," he smirked a little with amusement, "is dispose of this body that's failing me." He thought for a moment, and the smirk deepened into a genuine smile. Tugging the ignition cloth gloves from his wasted hands, he folded them, gently blotted the tears from her cheeks, then pressed the folded gloves into her hand. "Why don't you keep these for me until I ask for them? Then you'll know everything is all right."_

Before I could stop myself the words were out of my mouth: "Teddy…._can I have my gloves back?_ I want to wear them when Ed and I get married."

Teddy froze. She made a tight, painful sound. She swallowed hard, then instructed me to hand Izumi to Jeanne-Marie. She dug around in the brief case before offering me a small bundle, neatly wrapped in acid-free paper and labeled _gloves, 2 pr_. "I…I admit I swiped a pair he was going to leave behind. There were three pairs," she told me. "The pair he wore—the ones he actually presented me with, that is—the pair he was going to toss, which are in here, and a third, pristine pair that were among the artifacts he left with the letters and journals he personally handed to President Hawkeye for the state archives." Her eyes were glistening. "He…_you_…wiped away my tears with them, just before you passed through the Gateway. I…I didn't see what happened…I mean, if your body actually fell or what, because Daddy and I were right behind you. All I could see was Izumi and Wrath, running to meet me--and Hoenheim was watching in the distance."

Unfolded, they were stiff, stiffer than the eyepatch had been, and had a funny odor, rather like that of burnt matches with a hint of sandalwood. They _seemed_ the right size. _What the hell_, I thought, and I pulled one over my right hand….

…and the next thing I knew I was getting jack-slapped—with _automail_:"….you're such a fuckin' _wuss_, Mustang! What the hell is the matter with you? WAKE UP, GODDAMN IT!!"

…..TO BE CONTINUED…..


	4. Chapter 4

RISEMBOOL SOUTH, MARDI GRAS DAY, 2008, 4:00PM

RISEMBOOL SOUTH, MARDI GRAS DAY, 2008, 4:00PM

Edwin Hoenheim Elric, heir to the Elric family alchemic dynasty and full time teenage homophobe, was making yet another attempt at disappearing over the dunes, down the beach and _away_ from his freakish family. Not that he had any idea where the hell he would run off to, really. Sullivan's Island was, in the local vernacular, 'tee-ninecy', its lone convenience store well stocked with sun screen and boogie boards but sadly lacking in video games. He could hang out in the pocket sized town park, but being right next door to the fire station he was bound to be spotted and questioned—and escorted back to the old white house on I'on Avenue where the Jolly Roger and the flag of Amestris snapped in the wind alongside Old Glory.

That old swamp hag, Mrs. Havoc, had caught him an hour ago, digging her scrawny fingers deep in his arm and dragging him back to hell. She told him Aunt Tricia and Uncle Jean would be hurt if he missed their handfasting, and yeah, that did bother him some. Aunt Tee was beyond cool, and Uncle Jean Havoc was fast becoming his hero, with his black leather jacket and big-assed Harley Electra-Glide and shoulders that made him look like he never once cheated at the bench press at Gold's Gym. Havoc's family had fled Hurricane Katrina and resurrected the family blues club in Atlanta, but for some weird reason Uncle Jean was now caught up in the Elric family's business, having spent the past six months in Tokyo with Great Grandfather Alphonse, Aunt Tee and….

…and _them._ _The cocksuckers_, that's how he thought of them now. He couldn't even look at family photos of Edward and Mustang without visualizing them naked, sucking each other's--god, it made him sick!—fucking each other up the ass. He imagined them in bed together, doing all sorts of really gross things to each other, goddamn faggots.

Okay, so maybe they'd been like this all along. They never threw it up in people's faces like they were doing now. Nobody knew them as anything other than friends, and that Mustang worked as Edward's assistant since he'd left college. Mustang was actually a chemist and scientist with a PhD, and Edward and Alphonse were both said to be pioneers in rocketry and aerospace technology.

Two smart, educated men, a German from the tiny village of Risembool (bombed out during the war, he'd been told) and a Japanese-born Eurasian from a wealthy clan in Koukura. They looked young enough. They weren't ugly. Hell, women were always fawning all over them both. They could get as much tail as they wanted. So why was it the only tail they wanted was each other's ?

So…the slant eyed cocksucker was helping Aunt Tee get ready, or so he'd heard his dad, Fritz, explain to Uncle Hughes and Aunt Gracia, who had just driven in from where they were staying on the Isle of Palms. _Tell Cowboy Roy and Teddy that the Piledriver and the Graceful Goddess are here!_ Hughes had brayed, then yanked out his digital camera to show Dad the birthing pictures of his latest rug rat, Gigi. _Perfect_. The Swamp Hag was upstairs. Uncle Cocksucker was on the beach, making sure everything was read for the ceremony. And Mom—

_Forget Mom_, he had to tell himself. _Fuck her_. _I hope she gets smashed up in a car wreck, along with—_

"KEEERRRISSSTTTT!!" He stopped just before he slammed nose-first into the biggest goddamn _spider_ he'd seen this side of the Discovery Channel. Fucker was the size of a Buick, all black and grey and orange, and the entire entrance of the front gate provided the framework for a web that was nearly as big as he was. "Shit!" he spluttered, jumping backwards as the monster in the web waved her legs at him in warning. "I thought you got 86'ed in _Return of the King_." He wasn't as plump and juicy as Sam Gamgee, but he wasn't taking any chances. If he could just find a stick, knock that damn thing off the web--

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, _mon ami_. Bad manners."

"Huh?" He spun around to find Jean-Remy Havoc grinning at him, finger lifted in a gesture of caution.

Havoc nodded at the spider. "_Pardonez, Madame._" The spider calmed down immediately. "A Guardian spirit. One of the Saints. _Maman_ invited her."

This was insane. "She—she invited…_that_?"

The Cajun nodded again. "One of the Elders. That is Aunt Nancy. She's an orb weaver. _Maman_ asked her to come to the ritual and protect the front door."

Edwin felt the flesh on the back of his neck creep up in _folds_. "Aunt _Nancy_? She's no kin to the Elric clan."

Havoc's grin faded. "Aunt Nancy is everybody's aunt, and like your Oncle Edouard she has no tolerance for fools. The fact that she's here means that she _needs to be here_, understand? Somebody needs to be watched over. Someone is in danger. It could even be _you_. So you might want to apologize for even thinking of killing her, and while you're at it you might want to tell me why you're so angry with all of us, non?"

He wasn't mad, but on the other hand he wasn't taking no for an answer. Gesturing for Edwin to join him, Havoc hopped up on the picnic table. From that vantage point you could see over the backyard fence, not yet dripping in Don Juan roses and morning glories and moon flowers. It was a warmish spring, but once the sun was fully down it would turn downright chilly. Aunt Tee and Uncle Jean wanted a Mardi Gras handfasting on the beach, so the dress was casual and everybody wore a light jacket or sweater. Havoc wore faded jeans, a crisp linen shirt that was unbuttoned low enough to show off his chest and a darker linen waistcoat embroidered with Celtic knotwork. As they sat together in the dwindling afternoon light Edwin couldn't help admiring how…well…how _male_ Havoc was. Nothing effeminate or faggy. Even his hands looked strong and callused, like he'd done more than punch calculator buttons for a living. _I wanna be this kinda man_, Edwin decided. _Uncle Jean likes girls. Bet he'd never want to stick his dick in some guy's hairy--_

"Edwin? There's a gift I want to give _ma petite_ on her bridal day. Something that would mean everything to her. I need your help to prepare it."

Edwin was mystified. "What do you want?"

"Your aunt," said Havoc softly, "you know she had cancer, eh? We can have no babies of our own. We have our child because Taisa told us of his aunt's daughter who visited America and came back with a souvenir she was too young to care for—she was only two years older than _you_, mon ami. Even though his own family has disowned him, Taisa paid this girl's bills, saw that she got the best of care and found a loving mother to adopt her infant daughter. He shielded her from shame so that the Miyazaki clan would not turn against Reiko the way they turned against his mother Hikari and himself." Which was technically true, although it was another mother who adopted Reiko's child.

Edwin looked thoughtful. "I didn't know," he admitted reluctantly, "but what's that got to do with Aunt Tee's present?"

"What your aunt wants most in this world is a _united family_. Now, you've learned some things about your family that you didn't want to hear, that make you ill at ease—maybe it disgusts you, I don't know." Edwin opened his mouth. Havoc gestured for silence. "_Ecoutez a moi, s'il vous plait_. You must listen, my friend. There is no person you meet that does not carry secrets that would upset others--even you, in time if not now. But the Elrics, like the Havocs, will die for one another.

"Your Oncle Edouard, he sacrificed everything for Papa Alphonse—it even cost him his right arm and left leg. He lost them to save his brother's life and never counted the price too high. And when Aunt Teddy was sick with cancer, it was Mustang who never left her side, who made her fight for her survival when she was so tired of life she just wanted to lie down and give up. And these two good men opened their hearts to my and to my mother and sister, simply because I love your aunt so dearly. They are our family now…and so are you.

"Edwin, _mon ami_…I don't ask that you accept what they do. I ask that you accept what they _are_: two of the kindest men in the world who have loved you since you were born. Give Ed and Roy a chance. Find some measure of goodness in them. The rest of it—well, it means nothing. _Ca rien!_ They do not ask us to live their lives or to change ourselves. They ask only that we do not close our hearts to them. Can you do this? For Teddy and Izumi's sake, will you try?"

There was a lingering silence. "My mom's ditched us," the boy said finally.

After a moment, Havoc clapped Edwin's shoulder. "Then it is good that we are here to share that loss. Oncle Edouard was very angry and bitter when his father, Hoenheim, ran off and left his mother alone with two small boys to care for. And Roy was rejected by both sides of his family, just for being born out of wedlock. They would be glad to listen to you. I know they will."

4:15 PM, UPSTAIRS

_Ka-BLAM!_ "HEYYYY COWBOY ROY!! Where the hell are ya, buddy?"

"Upstairs, getting the shit slapped out of me by my fiancée?" I called back, shoving Ed backwards and off my chest. "And if you belt me again like that, Asshole," I warned him sharply, "I'll take you apart with a Phillips screw driver and an Allen wrench, you got that?"

So I passed out. Big deal. Ed had pulled the Colonel's antique glove off my right hand. No problem. "Don't get up," Jeanne-Marie cautioned. "You aren't well, Taisa."

Teddy looked frantic, so I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Has to be my glucose levels. I'll have some protein and a glass of orange juice, okay?" Hypoglycemia is a pain in the ass, but my uncle Simon Rogers—the only member of my dad's family to ever give a damn about my mother or me—says it runs on my sire's side of the family and hits most of us around the age of 40. Ed teases me, reminding me that if my blood sugar is low I can always give him a blowjob. "Seven little calories," he taunts, "fat free, low in carbohydrates—you're a chemist, you should know this better than I do." Frankly, if I'm feeling like shit, I'd rather have some turkey on whole wheat—and I'm not talking about my lover, either.

At that moment, the Piledriver and his bride decended upon us. Gracia, being a nurse, gestured everybody back and helped me to my feet. "Taisa, sit down. I'll get you something to eat," she told me before dashing downstairs. I greeted my old friend and ex lover but he didn't hear me—he was absolutely transfixed by the expanse of rosy cleavage above the froth and lace of Teddy's wedding dress.

I introduced him to Teddy's newly renovated bustline: "Piledriver? Meet The _Juggernaut_—owww! Shit, that _hurt!_ Pull in your claws!"

Hughes was almost speechless. "Damn, Ted—does your daughter look at your chest and yell, 'BUFFET??'"

"Enough of _that_. You pay respect to de bride, or I'll whip a little _hoodoo_ on yo' asses and you can say _au revoir_ to 'Gaston an' the Twins', if you catch my meanin'. Now, _allez!_ Out, all of you! Give de bride some quiet time before we start. We got 45 minutes—try an' not get into any fights, _d'accord?_"

"I'll keep them out of trouble, Jeanne," Ed smirked patronizingly.

She shot him a wicked look. "I was talkin' to _you_, _petit garcon_. Now scat!"

"Hughes? You aren't thinking of jumping the fence, are you?"

My oldest friend gave me a killing glare over the rim of his scotch. "Don't be ridiculous, Cowboy! I got a wife and two beautiful daughters—"

"And you can't take your eyes off the groom. I thought you said you'd given up 'steak for seafood'. When was the last time--?"

"Back in '97, and it was with _you_, dipshit. With you and Teddy, before her cancer surgery-- back when we didn't think she was going to make it.." His arm slid around my shoulder, but there was nothing but simple affection in that clasp. "God, those were hard times," he said softly.

"We've all come a long way since then."

"And Ed never threw it up to you?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head and smiled. "Who do you think sent me down here? Told me we'd been together twenty years and this was not going to change anything. Said, 'I'll take care of Alphonse—you and Hughes take care of Teddy.'"

"And we did."

"And we did," I echoed, finishing off the last bite of my sandwich. Ten years…Winry had just died and Al was ready to follow her into the grave. Teddy had been diagnosed with cervical cancer—and had just been through a nasty breakup with _Greed_—oh, I'm sorry. Let me call him by his Earthside name—Christophe. Evil bastard. Abused her for years until a brief, kind word from a stranger in a New Orleans blues club made her rethink the whole damn thing: _I light the candles for you, that the Saints make you strong. Kick his ass to the curb and find someone who'll treat you right, oui?_ And she punted that son of a bitch right out of her life, and now she's marrying the stranger who lit the candles. "Strange fucking world, ain't it, Hughes?"

"Damn straight, Cowboy Roy." His green eyes sparkled mischievously over the rims of his glasses. "Damn fuckin' straight. Especially," he added, "among these…_circus freaks_!"

For all the fuss and family drama, the ritual was simplicity itself. A circle of wind-proof torches about twenty feet from the tide line delineated sacred space., outlined on the sand with evergreen and palmetto fronds, wildflowers and seashells the younger cousins has gathered the day before, interspersed with strands of Mardi Gras beads in green, purple and gold—the colors of faith, justice and power. The brief ceremony had been crafted by her long time friends from the Society for Creative Anachronisms, Barb and Terri, who also provided the music. As Terri's warm alto rose in a traditional Cajun love song, we noted that the lyrics had been changed from , "Ma Petite Acadienne" to "Ma Petite _Amestrian_".

Havoc was escorted into the circle's heart, his mother holding his right arm while his older sister Marie-Luc held his left arm. As they reached Barb at the altar, they kissed him and stepped aside. Three strikes of a Tibetan bell and Teddy was led into the circle, Alphonse and Edward at her sides. All three of them were wearing their Red Coats and gloves, Teddy alone wearing her hood forward to conceal her face. Just before she reached Havoc she paused—Alphonse symbolically drew back his daughter's hood and Ed removed the Coat from her shoulders, revealing her snowy gown and brocade bodice and overskirt.

The groom's reaction was impossible to conceal, and I had to stomp on Hughes' foot to keep him from bursting out with a guffaw. As "Maid" and "Matron" of Honor we moved to stand with Teddy. To our great surprise, it was _Edwin_ who came to stand with the groom.

Our eyes locked for a second. His blonde head jerked in a nod. I smiled and nodded back, then turned my attention to celebration at hand.

Unlike a traditional wedding, there was much laughter and bantering—at one point the bride was laughing so hard she had to tell us all to shut up for a minute so she could catch her breath. Wreaths of oak and ivy, linked by long streamers of purple, gold and green were laid on their heads as their hands were tied together. Each person present accepted a cup of wine and offered a toast and a blessing to Teddy and Jean-Remy. When the cup was passed to Edwin, we all held our breaths.

"I don't know if I believe in love," he said, "but I believe in the two of you. And," he looked straight into my eyes, "I'm sorry I've been such a _dick_."

There was dead silence, broken by a whoop of laughter from the bride, who gave him a big hug as the rest of us joined in. At that moment, Ed stepped over, slid his arm around my waist and I laid my head on his shoulder in full view of our family and friends….and nobody gave a shit.

I had a twenty wagered with Hughes that Ed would get into a squabble with _somebody_ before Teddy and Havoc departed to spend two nights across the river at the Battery Carriage House, rumored to be one of the most haunted inns in the United States. "That's too easy," he countered. "I'm betting he'll get into a fight with a _Havoc_."

Did I mention Hughes will do anything to avoid _losing_ a bet??

"So…_Edward_," he brayed drunkenly, "You let Jeanne-Marie call you a _petit-chou._ Know what that is? She called you a _little cabbage_."

"WHAAAAAT??" Ed was off and running, damn it. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING KNEE HIGH TO A CABBAGE PATCH DOLL??"

"That's twenty you owe me, Mustang," Hughes crowed. "Pay up!"

Jeanne-Marie had hoisted a few and danced the heels off her boots. "Well, _cher—_if the _sobriquet_ fits, wear it in good health. _A' votre sante_!"

"Why, you—"

"Nii-san, don't you _dare_—"

"Aw, shut up, Al! She just called me a—"

"_WAIT ONE GODDAMN MINUTE!" _ Flushed with anger, Teddy marched angrily to her uncle, ready to flay him alive for disrupting her wedding.

You've seen the footage on YouTube. You've probably emailed the link to your friends. You've probably watched it in slo-mo. I know I have.

You saw it, frame by frame, when Alphonse hoisted his older brother off the ground like a kitten just as Teddy stomped over, flung her arms up in a gesture of utter disgust, drew a deep breath…and suffered a wardrobe malfunction of epic proportions.

Edward Elric, the love of my life, was directly in the line of fire—of two of the most tightly corseted…_cannons_…in Elric family history.

To wit: Edward got…._busted._ Right in the face.

_ Right_ in front of Edwin. "Christ," he whistled. "Guess you and Mustang aren't the only ones coming out at this shindig."

We may not have to kill that kid after all…….

_Hope you have got your things together,_

_Hope you are quite prepared to die—_

_Looks like we're in for nasty weather,_

_One eye is taken for an eye…_

--"Bad Moon Rising"(Fogarty)

As a hatchling she clung to the skirts of the wind, letting the breath of fate blow her where it would. After eating her first husband she'd found a spicebush bramble near the dumpster behind Dunagan's Tavern. The flies zoomed crazily after sucking down spilt beer and so many of them blundered into her parlor that she had become downright picky about her preferences. Bluebottles who fed on rotting crabs and dead gulls at the tide line had a pleasant tang to the fang, so to speak, while horseflies were so gamey and rank she'd sting them, wrap 'em up and forget about them.

The old woman had ducked around the dumpster on pretext of getting some empty whiskey boxes for packing. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and addressed the bushes in a low whisper. "Aunt Nancy, I know you can hear me, Cher. You just come on out, now. We gotta talk, you an' me, _d'accord?_"

So…a _Traiteur_—a Cajun folk healer-- or a Gullah. Someone who knew how to shut up and _listen_ to the wind whistling through the Web of Time. Someone that probably knew that within her body burned a spark of something the ancients knew as _Anansi_, the Trickster. Something intrigued enough to listen to a sunburnt old Cajun woman in a cowboy hat with a dozen ju-ju charms hanging around her wrinkled neck.

"My boy, my Jean-Remy's jumpin' the broom into a _strange_ family, Aunty. _Alchemistes_. Very old. Very cunning. De bride—she's a good 'un, but there's a shadow on dat family—yes, Cher. Trouble been sniffin' up their coat tails, on account of some old fart that stirred up a stink you can smell in _two worlds_.

"Now, dey got a nice big yard on I'on Avenue—de one dat flies de green flag wit de white dragon—you know the one I mean? Got a litch-gate in de front. Mighty fine place to spin a web. Good eatin', an' a palmetto tree you can shinny up to keep a watch on de worl'. I tell my son to warn 'em off and leave you be, you might could make yourself to home, guard de yard and be a guest at the weddin'. If you t'ink dat dere be worse omens, you go on and set your web on de gate. Anyone come through it wid evil in dey heart, you sting 'em, sting 'em _dead_, you hear me? And I teach Miz Teddy the Jubilee Prayer so you knows when not to strike, oui? What you say, old woman? You wanna look after my family?"

And so it was that the orb weaver spider moved to Resembool South, after being duly introduced to its mistress. After she was settled into her hedge, a younger woman came out with the old Cajun. She bowed nervously, threw three coins on the ground and three splashes of rum and began the list of The Innocents--those Aunt Nancy must not strike:

"_Cross of Jubilee, Cross of Jubilee—I am Innocent! Izumi Jean Elric is Innocent! Jean-Remy Havoc is Innocent! Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric are Innocent! Roy Mustang is Innocent…."_

The boy—that one named _Edwin_—he had been named by The Innocent Teddy as One Who Is Not Prey. In spite of that, she nearly gave him a sting for threatening her when she was guarding the gate. The Innocent Jean-Remy forced him to apologize—fancy, a bridegroom bowing to a daughter of Anansi on his wedding day! Of all the Innocents on the land that day, it was Havoc she kept her eyes upon.

When they arrived at the Battery Carriage House on their bridal night, Aunt Nancy climbed off the bumper of the hired limo and scrambled up the drainpipe closest Room Ten, where Havoc and his Elric bride would mate together—so odd, that human women ate their menfolk and were eaten in return and did not die of it, although Arachne knows they made the most dreadful sounds that made them sound like they were in the throes of something fatal.

The Innocent Teddy was, in fact, eating her mate and he was howling in rapturous appreciation when Aunty Nancy completed the last of her weaving of a web that stretched from the top of the doorjamb to the threshold, from hinge to crack. She polished off a stray mosquito, stretched out and settled in for a night's vigil. Come the morning she'd curl up among the rosy geraniums in the window box. The Innocents would be staying two full nights. When they caught a cab home, she'd be sharing the ride back to Sullivan's Island.

Shortly after midnight, under the crack of the door of Room 3, there was a flash of sickening green light. It was as if hundreds of tiny fingers plucked mad tunes on the strings of her web. Aunt Nancy flinched and shivered, legs waving frantically. Moments later a slim person of indeterminate age and gender slipped out into the night, locking the door of the third room behind him/her/itself, pocketing the key. Humming sweetly to it/him/herself , she/he/it headed out towards the Battery.

She/he/it paused before the door of Room Ten, admiring Aunt Nancy's handiwork for a moment. A pallid finger flicked out, smashing the venomous guardian against the door. It/he/she made a _moue_ of disgust at the greenish-grey goo that clung to his/its/her finger.

The door to Room Eight swung open. "I'm _hungry!_ No room service! Can't we go find an all night diner, Mr. Greene?"

"Ah. _Gross_man." The fox-like face, neither masculine nor feminine, stretched into a razor-like smile. It wiped the remnants of the dead spider across pouting, blubbery lips, which the fat man promptly licked as if by instinct.

"Let's go. I have to be about my…._Father's_…business…."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I'm not sure it's our place to understand, son. It's just another part of being an Elric. Want another sandwich?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad." Butter hissed in the black iron skillet as Al's grandson Fritz Lang Elric tucked slices of extra sharp vermont cheddar between slices of sourdough rye before carefully positioning the sandwich so it would brown without burning. Elric men, it had often been observed, were bottomless pits when it came to the dinner table. With the exception of Edward, all of them were tall and broad shouldered, but the dimmunitive clan elder frequently staged raids on the fridge and pantry that left the kitchen looking like it had been sacked by a horde of Vikings—and the son of a bitch never seemed to gain an ounce of fat anywhere on his spare, muscular frame.

Edwin ripped open a bag of Sunchips, crunched down a handful, and turned once more to study the door to Aunt Tricia's library, now locked from the inside. He'd seen the odd picture of the Really Old Guys, Ed and Alphonse, wearing these weird-assed red coats. Aunt Teddy was wearing one too, and now Mustang and Havoc were wearing black coats with that funny snake-cross-crown family crest in red on the back. About ten minutes ago the five of them had met in the hallway before filing into the library like they were going in for some sorta council meeting. The ol' Swamp Hag, Havoc's mother, had also gone into the library, along with Uncle Mays and Aunt Gracia. His Great Aunt Win-Sara, Al's older daughter, had fixed a big platter of sandwiches for the five, along with two of Gracia's incredible apple pies, which were laid out beside a coffee urn on Teddy's desk. Whatever else could be said, any serious Elric family discussion/debate/argument usually required sustinance--apple pie and coffee at the very least--to keep up the strength of the combatants, which was why most of the truly memorable shouting matches occured at the dinner table.

"Yeah, Dad—but what does it all _mean_? All those red coats and stuff. Looks kinda dorky. They aren't some sort of Satanic group or something, are they?"

Fritz deftly flipped the sandwich with a sharp jerk of the pan. He had gone into engineering but cooking was one of his real passions. "Very much the opposite. As it was explained to me, the Red Coats were like an honor guard back in Resembool where our family came from before the war. The Red Coats go back to the 1800's."

Edwin snapped off a fresh paper towel to use as a napkin, since he couldn't find the cloth ones. "And wasn't Resembool bombed out in Germany like Dresden?"

Fritz grinned at his son. "You've been paying attention in history class."

"Nope," he cracked open a can of Mountain Dew. "Google'd it. Dresden, I mean. Never found anything about Resembool."

"It was on the German-Austrian border, but I understand Von Hoenheim actually came from Belgium. Great-great grandmother Tricia Elric was from a little farming village called Resembool and that's where they met. Heard his horse lost a shoe and she lived in her parent's farm house, right next door to the smithy He intended to stay the night but ended up staying for good."

"Except when he ran off on her. Geeze, what a _tool_. Guess dumping people is just family tradition, huh Dad?"

The sudden bitterness in his son's voice made Fritz frown. He had no desire to talk about his wife Julia's desertion with anybody—least of all his teenage son. He slid the sandwich onto a plate and placed the still-smoking skillet into the sink to cool. "I'm going out," he told his son shortly. "Have a good lunch."

The screen door banged behind his heels, and minutes later Edwin Elric heard his father's rented SUV roar into the distance. "Fuck you too, Dad," he muttered, tossing the sandwich into the trash. There was still some wedding cake in the fridge—he could have that for lunch. There was also a few leftover bottles of Woodchuck Hard Cider. Maybe he'd have one of _those_ too…

_From the Alchemical Journals of Roy Mustang…_

The morning after Teddy and Remy got handfasted I got an urgent text message from the groom on my Blackberry: _Red Coat business when we get home._

I showed the text to Edo and Alphonse. Ed nearly sprained his thumb texting back: _WTF is going on? R U OK?_

_Ed ok?_

_I'm Ed—ok. WTF??_

_Saw GHOST. Msg for U._

_ME?? Said what?_

"_Winter in München" _

He shoved the Blackberry into my hand. "Ohhhh _scheiss im himmel!"_ I heard him mutter as he shot out the door and down the path to the beach.

Only his brother's intervention kept Ed from barging into their room at the Battery Carriage House. "If it were an emergency, Remy would have either called us or called a cab and come home. We're only twenty minutes away. Besides, everybody knows the Carriage House is haunted. There's the Headless Man, and the Gentleman Ghost—"

"—_neither _of which are personal acquaintances of mine," Ed shot back.

"If it's a ghost that knew you in Germany, who could it be?" I wondered. "You've said you didn't have much of a social circle while you were there, right? I know there was Lang, and Noa the Roma girl you met--oh, and Alfons Heiderich. Wasn't he your flatmate? You met attending lectures on rocketry, right?"

Let me tell you a little secret about my lover: Edward Elric is the shittiest liar in the world. His eyes give him away. Either that or he lashes out in anger and stomps off so he can't give himself away if there's something he's not comfortable talking about. BHe'd read that cryptic message, "Winter in München" and shot out that door like a cat with its ass on fire. Soon as I mentioned Alfons Heiderich—who happens to be the namesake of Al's firstborn and whose picture can be seen in Alfons Elric's photo collection—Edo gave me one of those looks that made me want to yell for somebody to block all acess points to the outside, because Ed was already out of his seat and lookng both restless and suspicious.

Look, Ed is _not_ responsible for Heiderich's death. He was shot by Rudolph Hess because he launched the rocket that sent Ed safely through the Gateway, even though Ed begged him not to do it. Heiderich's last gesture was the sacrifice of a true hero: he gave up everything, including his life, to help our family. If he hadn't done it, Alphonse would not be here and a large number of people I love would never have been born. Alphonse knows full well what his Doppleganger's sacrifice meant for the Elric family and so we have kept the name _Alfons_ in the family since then. In fact, when Win-Sara had her first daughter she named her _Heidi_—not for the book by Johannan Spyri but in memory of the man who gave his life for her uncle and father.

So—if Ed's beating himself up over Alfons Heiderich, well…

….well…it's an _Edward_ thing, right? Which means if I want to make my lover happy I should just shut the hell up and stay out of it.

The hell I will…

…TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Elfinragdoll for her original FMA song, "Winter in Munich", which was my inspiration—and to Freaksfreecss for her translation into German of Elfy's original lyrics. (I'll take the rap for all German misspellings in the story!) Also to wenrenee for her haunting series, "A Dream" which has touched me deeply.

_When it's winter in Munich and a heart beats cold  
Eyes of blue haunting eyes of gold_ …


	5. Chapter 5

It was cold on the beach

**Author's Notes:**

"Winter in Munich" original music and lyrics by Elfinragdoll—used with her most kind permission

"Tinderbox of War", lyrics by The Binary Alchemist, (music: "Silent Legacy" by Melissa Etheridge)

Parts of this tale originated as part of a holiday special, "The Boy Who Loved Rockets ("Stille Nacht")" that evolved into part of this novella.

It was cold on the beach. Not as cold as he'd been that December. That was a cold that seemed to creep in under his thin wool coat, under his skin and into his bones. It threatened to crack his heart wide open, and there were bitter days when he longed to fling himself into some icy German river. After all, drowning was supposed to be painless and the bitter temperature would make it swift and certain, the mass of his clumsy Earthside prosthetic limbs dragging him down into something that was surely more merciful than this empty hell, so far from his brother and his lover…

Snow falling on stone  
Finding it belongs here  
But a stranger, torn from his home  
Can only crawl here  
Where nobody knows his name, but the streets are filled

_With faces he remembers_

_His own self he starts to blame_

_As he takes the hand, he's been offered this December_

His eyes stung in the high wind, and he must have gotten a bit of sand in his eyes. No other explanation for why he had to reach for his handkerchief and wipe away the two drops of moisture that had slipped down his cheeks…

Teddy never saw it, but when Havoc had emerged from the bathroom in the middle of the night he found the Gentleman Ghost of the Battery Carriage House waiting for him.

"_Spreken sie Deutche?"_

Havoc shook his head. "_Non, mon ami. Parlez-vous français?Ou Anglais?"_

"Anglais? _English?_ Mine English iss not…sehr gut." The spectral face brightened after a moment. "Komm, gib mir deine hand…"

The hand that covered Havoc's was as softly translucent as the fine silk draped over the canopy bed where his bride still slept. His fingers began to move in an awkward scrawl that was not his own. Soon as the three word message was finished, the ghost shivivered and vanished and Havoc shook Teddy awake. They spent the rest of their wedding night sneaking around the property in the dark, armed with only Teddy's flashlight pen and a scented candle from their room. They thought they noticed a greenish light coming from under the doorway of Room 10 but they could hardly go busting in and check it for themselves. _Red Coat business_, they concluded on the spot, deciding to text Taisa in the morning.

They were about to go back to their room before somebody caught them snooping around in their robes and slippers when they noticed the light from the courtyard playing on the torn filaments of a large spider web that appeared to have covered the door to their suite. "What the fuck?" said Teddy.

Havoc noted the largish smear where some large insect had apparently been crushed against their door and pulled his beloved close. "Bad ju-ju, darlin'," he whispered into her hair. "Time to call for reinforcements, _d'accord_?"

**AMESTRIS, 2001**

Alright, so he had to pay the gang back for that goddamned pizza orgy he'd demanded when he bragged he'd provide proof positive that the legendary Brigadier General Roy Mustang had been a pickle puffer who knocked Edward Elric off his platform boots. "Just you wait, assholes!" he'd told them as he paid the tab with a 200 cens note he'd swiped from his dad's wallet when the old man wasn't paying attention. "Next time it's double or nothing, and—"

"--and you'll have to hock your fPod to pay the tab, loser!" howled his best buddy, Lucas Belsio. "Face it, buddy—history's whitewashed those old fucks, except for that stuff about Ed and his brother tryin' to bring their dead mom back to life. Sheesh, that gives me the creeps."

Josh Tringham had a repertoire of arch and sarcastic expressions, perfect for moments when Lucas was being a bigger scrote than usual. "Belsio, you pissed on yourself at camp last summer when my kid brother put a cricket in your jockstrap, fer cryin' out loud. You're a bigger pussy than _he _is. 'Sides," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I got me an after-school job workin' under Dickless Dickenson down at the museum. They're doin' this big-assed show this fall on the Great Alchemists of the 20th century. Mustang's got his own exhibit, and so do the Elrics. Dickless says he wants me to help him catalog the whole damn thing—so that means I'll be reading all those private journals they left behind when Dickless ain't lookin'!"

The problem was that alchemists traditionally concealed their notes in cryptic codes. Marcoh, the Crystal Alchemist, left behind piles of innocent looking cook books, and if you knew how to read between the lines you'd find the actual ingredient of the Philosopher's Stone! Fullmetal left intriguing travel diaries, while the Mustang kept a little black book full of tantalizing details of his trysts with a legion of women from all walks of life, from the perky secretaries of a number of high placed officials and rivals down to the whores from Mrs. Christmas' legendary brothel at Central. In later years, Mustang's journals were written exclusively in the Xingian script that he had learned as a boy. The sole exception were the letters he'd written the day he died, which were given directly into the hands of then-President Hawkeye, in the presence of his closest associates: Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Kain Furey, Vato Falman, Maria Ross and Denny Brosh.

This afternoon, while Dickless was in a meeting with the board of trustees, Josh Tringham had the run of the office and gleefully pried off the lid of a sealed crate that had been recovered from the remote cavern in the Briggs Mountain range where Mustang had hidden himself from the authorities in the military who wanted to send the senile old geezer to a nursing home. Most of his alchemic library had been packed away at the President's mansion in the keeping of Hawkeye herself, but his personal effects he guarded fiercely, probably with same sour expression as the life size bronze in the statuary garden, the one with the eternal gas-powered flame shooting out from its fingertips. Josh preferred the fountain depicting Alphonse Elric creating the never-failing Fountain of Liore. Alphonse looked no older than Josh, his head tossed back, arms flung up ecstatically as the cool mist rained down on his face after his long trek through the eastern desert. And of course, every child loved to pose beside the life-sized statues of Edward and Alphonse's armor in the playground—"see, mom? He was shorter'n _me_!" There was a concession stand in the Tringham botanical gardens near the playground, and Josh had gotten a jumbo order of "Not A Shrimp" prawn bites—the name was a quote from Fullmetal himself—with extra cups of Flame Alchemy sauce, plus a couple of fried fruit pies grown from variants developed by Russell himself and a bottle of StrongAde that came with a plastic sports cap comically shaped like the bald head of the Strong-Arm Alchemist that you could poke a straw through.

A bunch of elementary kids were running through the galleries, playing with their light up Red Stones, and the guards never noticed Josh sprinting in the opposite direction, ferrying in food and drink that was strictly forbidden in the artifact storage rooms.

Sucking a bit of Flame sauce out from under a fingernail, Josh began digging through the contents of the crate from Mustang's lair. There were some photos and sketches in leather portfolios that were cracked with age, clothing, personal items, and even his soap and razor. There were a pair of—holy shit!—women's panties, made of dark green silk. He examined the tag—it bore a strange message: _Victoria's Secret, New York-Paris-London. Made in the USA_. He _almost_ sniffed them, especially after seeing the color photograph—one of the FueryGraph© instant snaps—of what could only be the Spiral Alchemist, Tricia Elric, posing with a distinguished man in a red coat and honey-blonde pony tail who bore an amazing resemblance to the joyful young man in the fountain outside. Apparently ol' Roy the Rampant had torn off a piece with the woman he listed as his alchemic disciple in his will and heir to his personal effects. In other words, if the Spiral Alchemist—or one of _her_ disciples ever turned up in Amestris, they could lay claim to all of Roy's junk and cart it off if they wanted it. Considering Spiral and her father were last in Amestris in 1951 and it was now 2001, Josh hastily shoved the panties down to the bottom of the heap, slightly nauseous to imagine what Trisha Elric's ass might look like _now_, fifty years after she dropped them in the cave in Brigg's Mountain.

That's where he found the cracked and yellowed pamphlet, stamped _Chaplain's Office—Do Not Remove From Library_ and _Government Property, Eastern Command_. It was of dark green card stock bearing the state crest in black, nothing different from the other rules-and-regs booklets handed out to cadets and new recruits at the Officer's Training Academy. It was cryptically titled _Cadet Morale and Deportment: Your Place in the State Military, vol. 6_. Curious, he flipped past the index….and the title of the pamphlet made his eyes grow wide indeed:

"Volume 6: Particular Friendships Peculiar to Gentlemen: Fraternization and its Consequences"

Holy _crap._

Folded in the middle of the pamphlet was…wow…a _demerit_ citation. It was written out against Cadet Roy Mustang and Cadet Maes Hughes for being caught in the kitchen raiding the pantry. They had been caught by one Zolf Kimbley, a platoon leader, who noted that Hughes and Mustang had been making 'man-sized sandwiches' around 13:03, hours after lights out. He had recommended that the cadets be disciplined and possibly be reassigned to different barracks . "Hughes is a disruptive prankster," Kimbley had written, "distracting Mustang from his responsibilities. If there are further episodes of this nature I would strongly advise _splitting them up_."

His jaw dropped when he read the handwritten note taped to the citation: "Hughes had your ass. I own it now. Might want to read through this. Want you to know what they'll do to you if I tell them what kind of sandwiches you boys were making when I caught you.

"Show this to _anybody_ and Hughes is _dead."_

"TRINGHAM!! Do I smell _food_ in the archives?"

_Shit!_ Jamming the pamphlet in his coat pocket, along with the half-eaten bag of "Not A Shrimp's, he stashed his drink bottle inside his shirt, wiped the last of the Flame Sauce off his chin and slammed the lid back on the crate—half a heartbeat before the door slammed open and Dickless stormed in, sniffing madly. "What's that you're eating, boy? You know we don't allow food in here!"

He pulled the squashed and greasy packet from his coat. "S-sorry sir! I wasn't eating it, but these are the leftovers from my lunch. I thought it would be okay since they were in my pocket."

Dickless harrumphed a few times and allowed that he knew Josh wouldn't have been so careless. "You can put them in the fridge in my office next time. Off you go! See you on Monday!"

Heart thumping wildly in his breast, Josh snuck out the back door, jumped on his bike and got the hell out of there as fast as he could pedal.

He should have been crowing with triumph. _Fraternization._ Wow. _"Hughes had your ass. I own it now."_ Sweet holy Ishballa in a G-String! So Mustang was getting' his buns buttered by ol' Hughes! The guy that got 86'ed by Envy in the phone booth and then got promoted to Brigadier General…

…._the one Roy's body was buried beside at his own request. Damn!_

Only….

…only he didn't feel quite as smug and jubilant as he thought he would. There was something downright…dunno…something creepy about the whole mess. Okay, so Hughes and Mustang were sucking dick as cadets…but who the hell was this Kimbley dude and what kind of sick fuck would blackmail Mustang, making him bend over or else he'd kill one of his subordinate classmen?

He didn't call Belsio when he got home. Instead, he locked the pamphlet away in his desk and went for a long walk beside the canal…

_From the Alchemic journals of Edward Elric_

Needless to say I was unnerved by that text message the morning after Teddy and Remy's handfasting. They were all for rushing back. "No—stay put, you two. If this is who I think it is, he'll try to make contact again. Besides, the room's paid for through tomorrow morning. If this is Alfons, you're in no danger. Not you, and especially not Teddy."

Teddy, on the other hand, would probably shit cinderblocks sideways if she got a good look at the Gentleman Ghost. She'd always wanted to see photographs of her father in his youth. Not only would she satisfy her curiosity, she'd see her own features, cast in masculine mold, staring right back at her. I knew she'd hit me with a barrage of questions about my erstwhile roommate and her own brother's namesake. If Alfons Heiderich spoke his heart--and he never failed to do so—those answers could seriously jeopardize my relationship with her father.

Oh, you doubt that, do you?

Right. _You_ try explaining to your younger brother that you met his _doppleganger_ and spent some of the sweetest nights of your life huddled under a thin blanket, whispering his name in the dark and praying to the gods you don't believe in to keep this beautiful, gentle man alive _just one more fucking day_, because his tenderness made your exile bearable—only just.

_Tell_ the little kid that snuggled with you on summer nights that you loved a boy that had his face. His voice. His loving heart. Tell him how you rode his cock in the flickering candlelight, licked the sweat off the back of his neck as you made him groan and curse in a foreign tongue, his body trembling, clenched so tight around you—_god_, so tight! So goddamned good. When he was slammed back into the body of a 10-year-old child, _you_ were _grown_, and you were down on your knees crying a name too close to his own to be coincidence.

I never told _anybody_ what Alfons Heiderich and I shared. Not even Taisa. Because sooner or later my brother might find out, and I would lose the person I loved more than anyone in this world—more than any lover or family member. Al and I lived and died for each other—and if he turned against me…my life would _stop_. Just _stop._

"One thing more, Oncle Edouard," Remy's lazy Cajun accent shook me out of my anxious reverie. "Tell _Maman_ that Aunt Nancy followed us to the hotel—and she's been killed."

What the _fuck_? "Remy, is this some more of your Cajun voodoo shit? Who the hell is Aunt Nancy?"

"Just _tell _her, will you? And make sure someone's keeping watch over the children."

"No worries. Hughes is insane around kids. Right now he's babbling like a lunatic around your daughter, so if Izumi's IQ drops dramatically, don't blame it on me. Trust me, if anybody tried to lay a finger on his kids or yours, he'd rip out their intestines with one of Elysia's kiddy forks."

"_D'accord_, then. And if the ghost returns—what should I tell him?"

_That_, my friends, was what was eating a hole in my guts from the moment I read the text message. What the hell do you say to a long dead lover—the one your family never knew shared your heart and your bed and gave your life back to you during the most desolate winter of your life?

"Sorry—signal's breaking up. Call you later. Love to Teddy." I jabbed my thumb at the END button, cursed myself for a coward and hiked off towards the ruins of Fort Moultrie. Hopefully the ghosts of the Confederacy would run interference in case I had to face the shades of dead lovers.

Before I left, though, I grabbed Taisa so goddamned hard that I actually left a small bruise where my metal fingers dug into his back. I didn't say anything, just stood there locked tight against his lean, sculpted body. I wanted to feel him _breathe_—to drink in his warmth, his scent. "Hey," he protested gently, "what the hell's the matter, _Edowado_?" There was a low chuckle that I could feel straight down in my groin, even as worried as I was. "So Teddy and Remy are turning their honeymoon into an episode of _Scooby Doo_. If they want to play Shaggy and Velma, that's their problem, not ours. Do you really believe that was Heiderich that Remy saw?"

"I don't know _what_ I believe," I muttered into the curve of his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, don't let it upset you. What was so special about winter in Munich?"

The same damn thing that was special about spring in Central. A man whose life was _over_—who had absolutely nothing to lose-- reached out to me—and I reached back.

One was a man who loved his country even more than he loved me.

And one, god help me, was a beautiful boy who loved rockets…

_One body in pieces, one body in illness  
Each bearing his cross  
Each of them would reach out, shattering the stillness  
Conquering loss_

_When it's winter in Munich…_

_Die Rakete zu den Planetenraumen_ (The Rocket into Planetary Space) was published in 1923 by our teacher and mentor, Hermann Oberth.

I was the only non-German in the _Verein für Raumschiffahrt_—the Spaceflight Society. My plausible lie, however, was that my father Hoenheim had been living and teaching in London but my mother was from the Austrian-Germany borderlands, from a tiny village called Resembool. My German was passable—only just, but my fair hair and skin and even, angular features could be easily mistaken for Aryan instead of Amestrian. More to the point, I was a _scientist_, and my enthusiasm for Professor Oberth's classes and high marks opened doors that otherwise would have remained firmly shut in the face of an 'Englishman'. I wisely kept my mouth shut during political bickering, shrugged noncomittally when Britain's policies were scorned and generally projected the air of a man without borders, neither embracing nor openly rejecting the rise of National Socialism.

My agenda was going _home_…and home wasn't London. Home was with Alphonse--and Roy, if he would have me. It was bad when Dad was still around, but once he vanished again I thought I would sicken and die from loneliness. A world of familiar faces—but did any of them know my name? More than once I found solace in a glass of brandy at bedtime to numb the pain, not that it helped.

And to a homesick alchemist, drunk and lonely in his coldwater flat, the brandy didn't taste as fine as the glass I shared by the fire at Mustang's house, the night he finally told me about his relationship with Hughes. That was the night I leaned over and clumsily kissed him for the first time. I missed his mouth because he jerked back in shock, planting my lips on his pale cheek instead…

I had found myself getting hard around Mustang, especially after one of our shouting matches. Ridiculous, eh? I mean, he was _fourteen_ years older than me, my superior officer and not exactly of sterling reputation as far as I was concerned. He was a user, a blatant opportunist and for all intents and purposes had the morals of a rooster in a henhouse. But anyone with half-decent powers of observation, such as Hughes or Hawkeye…or _me_, for instance, would have quickly pointed out that Colonel Sarcasm was deliberately pursuing the secretaries and underlings of the men in power. In short—he was whoring for his career. Oh, I'm not saying he didn't enjoy the hell out of the brainless attention of all those females—it was just that…aw hell, how can I defend him? He was an asshole with ambition and if the higher ups had been any wiser he'd been hauled off to Lab 5 and had his genes shuffled with something spectacularly nasty and appropriate.

But if that was all there was to Roy Mustang, I wouldn't have given a shit what happened to him.

That night he got so drunk and morose over Hughes, that was when I pounced on him. He turned me down. Told me I was too young, too confused. Automail is useful in a clinch, y'know? "_Vice _grips", Taisa calls my prosthetics. I locked myself around his hips and shoulders and zeroed in, wiping that goddamn smirk off with my mouth. Two searing kisses were refused—then hungrily accepted--before I was grinding my hips against the cock that had risen despite his half hearted protests.

I mean…c'mon. This was _Mustang_. Roy The Rampant. Hard as a tent peg and horny as a three balled tomcat. He'd told me about Hughes, so I knew he liked men. He should have been eager to stick it to the first willing hole anybody offered.

Right?

I wasn't prepared for his next words: "_Edward_...you don't want this. You don't want _me_." He pulled back as far as he could with me wrapped around his body, pressing him into the back of the sofa. "You're _fifteen_, Edward. You don't know what you want."

"I want _you_, Roy. Shit, what do I have to do to convince you?

He bit his lip with frustration, then smoothed my sweaty bang back from my forehead. "If this is so important to you, Fullmetal…you'll wait until you're of age. Right now you're young. Your blood is so hot right now—" he stilled the hand that was firmly stroking him through his trousers, "—you can't tell the difference between animal need and human passion. You can't stand me—you've said it to my face a million times, Edward. But right now your brain is flooded with hormones and you figured out that I'm capable of being with men as well as women. I'm an easy mark."

"But—"

"You've found out that I'm lonely, that I've lost the man that meant…that I've lost _Maes_. I'm vulnerable and drunk and you think that this is the perfect opportunity to—"

"NO! No—you've got it all wrong! Damn it, Roy! I'm not trying to _ use_ you! I just—" I growled in frustration, smashing my fist against the back of the sofa. "Look, tell me what the fuck I can do to prove that I really want this?"

"_You can wait until you're of age. _If you still want me—which I doubt—come to me when you're eighteen. If I'm still alive and you still want me…"

"I do. And I will."

He smiled faintly and pushed me off his lap. "W_ell.._we'll see_._"

So ironic that a lifetime later on _this_ side of the Gateway a nineteen year old Taisa Roy Mustang would be crawling all over me in the back seat of Teddy's VW Microbus, begging me to fuck him…

"_God…Edo…do something, damn it!"_

"_Mmmmmm….Taisa," I breathed into his ear, punctuating each syllable with a warm stab of my tongue. "This is so…good. No…need to…rush…"_

"_Damn you, Edward! Hamete chodai! Come on," his fingers kneaded my buttocks. "Fuck me! God, you're driving me crazy!"_

"_I don't want to fuck you, Taisa. I want to make love with you. And you deserve better," I gestured at the back seat of the VW van, "than this."_

Damn it, if Taisa _ever_ remembers our lives in Amestris, he'll swear I was getting even with him for his refusal of my drunken advances—and then I won't be able to sit down for a week!

At any rate, there was that day he caught up with us in the woods when the military was after us--the day he blurted out what he'd done during the war and how it was driving him to make ammends for his crimes. _That_, precisely, was the day I realized what Colonel Shit really meant to me, recognized how alike we were. Our hands were drenched in the blood of innocent people when we were very young. I was 11 when I tried to bring Mom back; he was barely twenty-two when he went to war in the east. He was obeying orders. I defied my brother and the laws of alchemy and acted in my own selfish self interest. And that day in the woods it became crystal clear to us both that whatever the differences, we were one and the same. My anger was literally transmuted into understanding. _I_ was one of those he'd die to protect. I knew why he'd rebuffed me. It was more than my age. He was willing to sacrifice that desire between us for the sake of protecting me as he could not protect Maes Hughes.

He wouldn't fuck me—but he would die for me.

If that's not love, what the hell is?

There is a thin line, so the song goes, between love and hate. Colonel Mustang and I wrestled and shoved each other back and forth between those boundaries so often that we finally scuffed out the line. Given the chance, we both recognised, we would choose to be together, to love—and fuck--_and fight_--and face whatever hells Fate decided to throw us into _together_. That is how it has been since we were reunited here in this world in 1975.

That is what _would _have happened in Amestris—if our luck hadn't just run out…

_Sickened by my guilt I told my friend I had a plan_

_To overthrow corruption-To rebuild the Mother Land_

_I would heal a nation, torn by war and strife_

_My ambition burned to ashes on the day he lost his life_

_My tears won't bring him back-Now I'm settling the score_

_Retribution from the Tinderbox of War_

When everything fell to pieces, right before he and Havoc and Armstrong staged their little _coup d'etat_, we both realised that if it was to be, it had to be _now._ Shit, he _knew_ he was going after Bradley, knew he'd never come out alive, didn't give a rat's ass about anything anymore. I cornered him in his office and told him there was no fuckin' way I was waiting any longer for him. Half hour later I was flat on my back in a puddle of ink we'd spilled on his desk in our hurry to get our bodies entwined.

He wanted to go slow—just a blowjob, Ed. Let's not rush it, Ed. You're not ready for more yet, Ed. Blah blah blah… "There's no time!" I grabbed him by the lapels, thrust my tongue into his ear,whispered "Do it!"—and he did.

_God_, we must have looked ridiculous. I was squirming all over the desk, smearing ink over everything, and he was so nervous and scared of harming me, fumbling like a virgin—but all embarassment was forgotten once the sparks started shooting behind my eyeballs and my brain began to melt with bliss as he found the right angle of approach, so to speak. I could have been lying on broken glass. I didn't give a fuck, just wrapped my legs tighter and tighter around his back, sucking greedily on his neck while urging him on with hoarse cries. When he finally shuddered and collapsed into my arms, I wouldn't let him pull out. "Stay inside," I told him. "I've waited too long to let you go_._"

Then it got weird. Like fucking with me was the last straw, the last thing to crack that façade. He pressed his face into my chest and sighed. _"I've been alone so long."_ It made me shiver with something deeper than desire. I found myself kissing that soft black hair, stroking his back with the first real tenderness I've ever felt. "I was here all along. You were just being stubborn," I told him. "I'm not eighteen yet. Why did you finally give in now? You raised so much hell about making me wait, selfish bastard."

"Because I'm a dead man, Edward. Dead since I decided I had to bring this government down. Once you're dead, there's nothing left to fear."

"WHAT--"

"Let me finish," he ordered firmly. "I'm not going to be Fuerher. I'll never get out of there alive, but if I destroy that monster that's tearing my country apart it will be worth any price. I—I'm sorry. I should have waited. I _would_ have waited, Edward, but I'm out of time. I decided that if you still wanted me—"

"Shut up, damn it! I'm not going to lose you—"

"_I'm already lost_. Accept it. Just…be with me now. This is our only chance."

"Okay, you lost Maes. You're not going to lose _me_."I don't know if I was convincing him or myself, really. _"_You'll take him down. I'll be here when it's over, I promise."

He made a strange sound deep in his throat. Might have been a chuckle. Sounded more like a sob. "I'll be court-martial'ed. Executed as a traitor and as an assasin—assuming I get out of this alive—"

"Maybe not. Maybe when they find out he was a homunculus—"

"They'd still have to make an example of me. Only two things concern me now. I want my people safe and protected. And," he lifted his head from my shoulder and fixed his dark eyes on me wih a haunted expression, "I want you as far away from me as possible. I'm not dragging you down with me." His warm breath ghosted against my bare skin as he began sliding down my body, hungry again. "A few days. That's all we have to be together. Make it count, Fullmetal!"

Hawkeye caught us. I think he wanted her to. Not that he was being cruel. I think he didn't want her to have any illusions that could hurt her even more, although how she could have been his bodyguard and not known about Hughes—well, that's just impossible to my thinking.

Hawkeye didn't bat a goddamned eyelash. She glanced over her shoulder, ordered Havoc to stand guard outside, saluted us both with a wry, "carry on, sir!" before she spun on her heel and marched out, quietly closing the door behind us. Later she knocked and announced through the door that she was leaving a tray of sandwiches and a pot of fresh coffee outside for us.

We didn't go to his house that night. It was probably under surveillance. Instead, I slipped in the back door of Mrs. Christmas' brothel, just like any horny teenage boy in Central. Roy? _He_ marched in the front door, smirking as usual. That snide expression melted off his pale face as soon as he locked the door to our room.

Now _that_ was a night of revelations, I can tell you. Tense and depressed and—yes, damn it—_scared of dying_—he put it all out of his mind, drowning his senses in our lovemaking. And yeah, that _is_ the right word for it. _I couldn't say it to Maes_, he admitted.

_You're going to say it to me_, I ordered.

"Fullmetal…._Edward_…I…."

In the end, he couldn't say it to me, either. He couldn't say it out loud, but he told me with his body, with the tender, possessive way he curled himself around me as he slept. The look of undisguised happiness when he woke to find I was still there in the morning.

Our farewells? Curt. Blunt. A handslap before I walked away. I wanted to knock that stubborn son of a bitch right in the head and order Hawkeye to stomp on the gas, get the hell out of Amestris. Take him to Xing. Take him _anywhere_. Just get him out alive. He'd have hated me for doing it, so I didn't. For all I knew, she was driving him straight to his death…and she'd do it for the same damn reason I was walking away: because we _loved_ this man—and this is what he asked of us…

_We are not the victims—there are choices we must make_

_Use your art with wisdom—learn to build and not to break_

_"Be Thou For The People"—I've got to make you understand_

_Learn from my mistakes and blood will never stain your hand_

_And from the Gateway, I will guide you_

_When my soul has found release—_

_And this Tinderbox ignites in flames of peace._

So I wandered the streets of Munich with no heart that December, wishing the bitter frost would gnaw into my bones and freeze my blood and let me join my beloved dead. My brother—oh, god! It hurt to think of losing Alphonse!—my Mom…and my Colonel.

I found a new obsession: rocketry and space exploration. I told Hoenheim that I would study with Professor Oberth.. "No guarantees that it will get you back home, my son," he fretted over a mouthfull of nails, hammering the lid on a crate crammed with extra prosthetics of his own design. I told him that if alchemy had let us down on the Earth side, science would have to provide the answers.

That's when he told me about his goddamned portal stones. "I'm not ready to give up on alchemy. Not yet. I was born in this world, and once I arrived in Amestris I was frantic to chase down any possiblity—any hope of getting back. Once I mastered alchemy I began making a series of array stones—half-finished Gateways, really—in an effort to make my way back to Earth again."

An armload of crisply starched shirts hit the threadbare carpet. My jaw must have been hanging down a foot. "Y-you…did…_what_??"

Yeah, I'd heard right. Stones on that side. Stones on _this_ side too, matched near enough as he could guestimate. Figure out some way to link the damned things together…and you're on your way home, boy.

Bullshit. I didn't buy it. Wasn't worth getting my hopes smashed over. "Fine. Great. Whatever. I'll see you when I get back," I told him. I boarded the train with a heavy heart, wishing by all the powers that I could reach across the sky and feel my brother clasp my hand…and see that damnedable smirk on Roy's face, welcoming me home again.

… Instead my heart leapt up my throat at the sight of a pale German boy—just barely nineteen—who turned and smiled at me from the desk in front of mine and asked if he could fill his pen from my inkwell, as the one on his desk was dried out.

"_ALPHONSE!"_ My god—the only thing that stopped me from clasping him to my chest was the color of his eyes—like the ironically named 'forget-me-nots'—and that his hair wasn't the warm caramel shade of my brother—a perfect blend of my father's blond and my mother's light chestnut.

"Al-_fonzs_," he laughted a little, correcting my pronunciation. "And you—you are Herr Elrich, _ja_?"

"Uhh…_ja_. From London. Call me Edward."

"Ah! Ed-_vart_."

"Ed-_war_-d."

His eyes twinkled and he mined scribbling my name in the air with his empty pen. "_Ja_. As I said. Ed_vart_. Meine English iss gut, yes?"

I offered the inkwell and scowled at him. "Your English _sucks_, Herr Heideric_k_."

"Heider_ich_. _Ich! _ Und your German iss disgraceful. You will be left in the dust in this class, Herr El-RICK."

"The hell I will!"

We were both laughing now. God, that smile made me homesick. "I shall make a bargain mitt you, Ed-_WARD_. I shall correct your German. You shall correct meine English. Ve study together as friends, _ja_? Und we shall race to the top marks, und make Herr Oberth pleased."

Three years later I buried him. Shot in the back, just for helping me escape to my home—to my brother and my Colonel. "Cut your hair," I ordered Alphonse. "Take his passport and clothing. Take his name for now. We'll get Noa to get us past the border and meet Herr Lang in France, like we planned."

"Are we really going to America, brother?" Al asked, scissors hacking away at his long ponytail.

"We can't stay here," I told him. "Not the way things are. 'Sides, we've got to find that bomb, and Lang says the Americans might find it before we do. Maybe they'll listen to reason and not try to use it on anybody."

I sent Al down to the _strasse_, suitcase in hand. Before I handed the keys back to Gracia, I sat down on the shabby mattress that had creaked and groaned under our bodies as we clung together, the boy who loved rockets and I.. _"Abschied, meine Liebe -- mein Alfons. Vielen Dank. Ich werde nicht vergessen -- nie."_ I pressed his pillow to my face, faintly flecked with spatters of blood. I didn't want to forget the way he smelled—not ever.

I knuckled the tears out of my eyes, drew a deep breath, and locked the door behind me.

Roy is my heart. I waited a lifetime to find him again. But Alfons gave my life back to me. If it hadn't been for _meine Liebe_, I might not have survived long enough to find my Colonel, to see him reborn, to claim him as mine, damn it.

Somehow or other, if Alfons has something to tell me, I've got to listen.

No matter _what_ it may cost me….

…And hate would claim the life, of the young man who'd held his hand out to a lost one  
Who trembles against the ice, of this newest loss, cause it's gonna be a long one  
When it's winter in Munich and a heart beats cold…

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

AMESTRIS--1951

Not all stones used in Alchemy were created at the cost of human life….at least not in Xing.

For the better part of his life they were stuffed into his pocket. His mother had crafted the lambskin pouch so that each gem was safely tucked in its own corner and the whole was sewn into what appeared to the curious as a faded tea pouch, smelling faintly of banchai and dried plum blossoms. If shaken open, it even yielded a few crumbling bits and twigs. "One of my mother's brews," Roy would comment dryly if anyone happened to see him take it out of his pocket. "Nasty stuff, but she believes it will prevent the joint ail that runs in her family."

"Does it work?" someone would inevitably ask, and agile fingers would triple-snap, flames spiraling the enquirer, close enough to crisp a few arm hairs. Mustang would then wiggle his fingers and tuck the packet away with a smug grin.

Alone, sometimes, he'd contemplate the real contents of the tea packet. A golden pearl, big as his thumbnail. A sphere of dark purple amethyst, clasped in a pair of silver hands, long fingers laced to keep the stone in place. A small, flat disk of palest jade, the alchemic glyph for longevity cast in gold and bound to its center.

The fourth stone was the one that interested Roy Mustang the most. It was also the heaviest. A square carved of rare lapis linguis, called lazulite by the Amestrian Alchemists, nearly an inch long on each side, its face carved with twenty-two diamond-shaped facets. _Twenty-two facets—that's twice times eleven, the Master's Number. Ten branches of the Tree of Wisdom—and one for the Unknown, the Leap of Faith each Alchemist must make to face what he fears to learn about the Truth._

The pearl was for the begetting of children. Elycia Hughes wore it proudly on her wedding day, and on the day Roy Mustang's body was laid to rest beside his best friend, Maes'grave was thick with floral tributes from grands and great-grands who drank to his memory with love every holiday.

On the day of her inauguration as President of Amestris, Riza Hawkeye's husband proudly fastened the silver clasp of the gem that had been delivered by Maria Ross. The President-Elect tucked the amethyst out of sight, along with the message that accompanied it: _"Wisdom" is its name and its purpose. I intended to use it as Fuehrer. It will serve our nation more fittingly in your hands as President._ At the end of her many years in office, she presented the amethyst to her successor—and he in turn to his….but only the State Alchemists knew of this, as it fell to them as an official duty to insure the protection and proper use of what was to be called the Gem of State of Amestris.

That snowy night in 1951 when Roy Mustang made his preparations to enter the Gateway through the Portal Stone in Briggs Mountain, he contemplated the last two stones—the jade and the lazulite. Alphonse Elric had been sent to wait in Roy's transport a mile up the path towards the mouth of the cavern. His daughter, Tricia, lay unconscious by the fire, recovering from the complicated act of Tantric Alchemy that allowed her to leave her body untenanted so that the spirit of her uncle, Edward, might enter in and say his final farewells to the Colonel he had loved for half a century from the Earth side of the Gateway.

He had been holed up in this cavern—this lair—for months, fire-bombing the glyph-covered Portal Stone, trying to force his way between the worlds, to be reunited with Fullmetal before his sick and wounded body crumbled around him—or before President Hawkeye had him admitted to some cushy veteran's hospices where he'd be strapped to a wheelchair and fed mush by some slip of a girl with bright eyes—and big breasts he would not be encouraged to fondle. _That's no way for a soldier to die_, he'd told the Elrics. Alphonse had reacted violently at Roy's decision to accompany them back to Earth, certain that the old Colonel would never survive the journey. It was tantamount to suicide, Alphonse argued. Tricia, on the other hand, agreed with Mustang. _If you won't take him through, Daddy, I will! _

And so she would, in a little while. Alphonse would return. Using what they had learned of Hoenheim's portal stone, they would open the Gateway. They would safely return home…and his life would be offered in exchange for their passage. Roy Mustang, would die, abandoning his failing flesh, clinging to the promise held in Edward's last words:

_"You've got to remember this! I want you to keep repeating this, over and over and over, right up through the Gateway! 'My father's name was Roy Rodgers from Blackpool, England. He flew a P-51 Mustang airplane. He was a pilot. My mother was from Kokura, Japan. She was a nurse. Her name was Miyazaki Hikari . My father was Roy. My mother was Hikari. They met in Tokyo after the war. They never married. I was named Taisa Roy Mustang. My clan name is Miyazaki Taisa. I will study chemistry at Berkeley in America. On October 3__rd__, 1975, I will make sure I'm in the alley between the men's dorms around 10pm, pacific time—and I will not run when the lacrosse players come to beat the crap out of me. I will wait for Hughes and Tricia.' You've got to remember this! You are Taisa Roy Mustang—and Edward is waiting. Find me," he gasped as Roy kissed him farewell. "Damn you, Mustang! You…have to find…me…."_

He had kept the jade for Edward all along—and now that he had seen the golden hair and nearly unlined cheeks of 101-year-old Alphonse, it became clear that Fullmetal would have no need of it. _Daddy was the carrier of the actual Philosopher's Stone_, Teddy had told him, _and Edo's been exposed to vast energies when he activated the array in Lab 5. He got hit with the full force of the alchemic reaction. It changed their DNA, Roy. They're like Hoenheim now. They won't live forever—and they refuse to take the bodies of others as Grandfather did…but they've been changed for good. And because of this, my brother and sister and I aren't aging normally either. But it's going to be hard for our loved ones. I mean—you'll be with Edward again, but he's going to have to watch you wither and die of old age…and it's going to break his heart._

How ironic, he mused to himself. The people of Xing studied Retanjutsu in a quest for immortality. Emperor Ling Yao even abandoned his soul to allow Greed to overshadow him in hopes of living forever. And now the Elric family has managed the near-impossible feat of extending their lives far beyond the norm…only to have to watch their loved ones die before them.

"Or…maybe not." Tugging a fresh pair of ignition cloth gloves from his rucksack, he sat down at his crude wooden table crafted from scraps of a discarded packing crate. Working the seam free from the cuff, he separated the fine silk lining from the outer layer of ignition cloth, too coarse to wear against bare skin. It took some effort but he was able to push the tiny jade disk up through the layers and into the tip of the left ring finger. _Teddy will give these to Taisa if I ask her. As long as Taisa kept the stone, it might protect and extend his life. And in the end…when they can't run and hide anymore on Earth…maybe they'll want to come home. _

Tricia stirred, still deeply asleep. Mustang glanced at her fondly. Her sacrifice, she reluctantly confided to him before they began their Tantric rite, was one she was loathe to admit even to herself. "I—I loved Taisa, you see," she confided, avoiding his eyes. "Right from the moment Hughes and I dragged him out of that alley where those frat boys were beating him half to death. I mean…I knelt down in the dirt and took him in my arms…and that was that. And it was damned clear from the start that it was Hughes he wanted, even though I knew he cared for me. So…I decided to be the best friend he'd ever have—and when I realized he'd gone over the moon over meeting Uncle Edo, I decided I'd do everything in my power to bring them together and keep them that way, if that was what made Taisa happy. "

"But you love each other, yes?"

"Absolutely. In all ways except…one. And I laid that aside—that longing. That was my first real alchemy…transmuting romantic love and desire—eros—into agape, the love of the spirit. But Hoenheim—" she scrubbed her forehead as if it ached terribly, "—made me feel that love again—said I had to accept that pain, to let myself hurt—so we could…do..._this_."

"You did it to help me."

"You and Edo. Exactly." She wasn't smiling.

"I don't understand how I could deny you," he told her. "Perhaps if we had been lovers that longing would have been fulfilled and it wouldn't have hurt you so terribly all these years."

"You…tried. Once." It was obivous that even discussing it caused her pain. _ And when we drew the array and merged in the rite so that Edward could speak to me, all that emotion…the power…all that was a lifetime of longing and love she felt for Taisa, love she'd laid aside for his sake…and she gave it to me and to Edward as a gift to help us find one another..._

Tricia, wife of Hoenheim—who sacrificed everything for her young sons.

Tricia, reborn—daughter of Alphonse, sacrificing her own heart for Edward and for Taisa. Never marrying. Never bearing children. As alone in her way as he had been here in Amestris, waiting for a way home to Fullmetal.

Presently, he nodded, mind made up. "There's not a lot I can change in this world," he told the candle flame that guttered smokily from where he'd jammed the talow candle into the mouth of a dusty whisky bottle. "But equivalent exchange is the law of the universe—and it's time for me to balance the debt."

The note to the President was sealed—and quite specific. Tricia Edward Elric—and her disciples and decendants—would be the heirs of his estate. _Miss Elric is my disciple in the art of Alchemy—as such she is sole owner of my alchemic notes, diaries, research and personal effects that have not been willed elsewhere. She has passed my strenuous testing with high marks, specialising in Tantric Alchemy. It is my request that she be given the honorary rank of State Alchemist and the title Spiral Alchemist be bestowed upon her. I also request clemency for her father, Alphonse, and guaranteed sanctuary for the Elrics and their students should any of them return to Amestris. _

Second—the instructions for his rebirth given by Edward. He would ammend them:

_…__I will wait for Hughes and Tricia. I will embrace them both, equally, as lovers and friends. We three will cherish one another the whole of our lives. Hughes will find Gracia. I will find Edward…and Tricia will find lasting happiness with the man who will love her with the full measure of devotion she gave to Taisa--and who lost so many lovers because of me. Tricia will find Jean Havoc."_

_"And third….__this__. For your family. For your disciples. A way __home__."_

_ Kneeling in the ashes of the hearth, he scrawled an array in the dirt. Smiling a little, he plucked a gold button from his jacket, a silver one from his coat-tail. _

_ She never felt the needle that gently pricked her fingertip, nor did she miss that drop of crimson that he caught on the stone's face. A quick jab and a drop of his own blood was dripped to blend with hers on the face of the stone, which was then laid in the heart of the array with the two buttons._

_ Once upon a time, months ago, he'd taken a hammer to Hoenheim's stone in sheer frustration. A splinter from that blow was laid upon the lazulite, the blood staining them both._

_ A little gold. A little more silver. Lazulite. The strange green stone shaped by Hoenheim of Light. His blood…and __Elric__ blood._

_ The brilliant scarlet flash made her eyelashes flutter. "Roy? Colonel? Wha--?"_

_ Mustang tucked the blankets around her bare shoulders. "Shhhhh….it's nothing. Go back to sleep."_

_ His mother would have worn it with pride._

_ A tiny golden sphere of the sun, laced with horns of the moon in delicate silver, curled around a heavier silver setting for a large faceted stone of midnight blue, veined with gold and deep green. The bail was adorned with a triple spiral, like the one on Tricia Elric's array, the one he'd complained was too time consuming to draw in a hurry._

_ He touched it to the Portal Stone—and for an instant it went from shimmering and opaque to clear as green water. "All right," he nodded to the sleeping woman at his feet. "Your grandfather made the doorway. And now, I've made the __key__…"_

_AMESTRIS—NOW_

_ "….TRINGHAM! Where the devil are you, boy?"_

_ Josh Tringham guiltily jammed the strange trinket in his pocket, right beside the cryptic note from one Zolf Kimblee—the one threatening the life of Maes Hughes if Mustang didn't respond to his sexual overtures:_

_ "Hughes had your ass. I own it now. Might want to read through this. Want you to know what they'll do to you if I tell them what kind of sandwiches you boys were making when I caught you. _

_ "Show this to anybody and Hughes is dead."_

Old "Dickless" Dickinson's sweaty face peered through the office door. "Come on, boy! Don't dawdle! This is the most important relic in our collection and I want you to have that camera ready when we get it out of the crate!"

"Wha—what is it, sir?" Josh stuttered, worried that Dickless might notice he'd been prying into that sealed crate of Brigadier General Mustang's personal effects again.

"The array stone, you thickwit! They dredged it out of Lake Armstrong. Rumor has it that it was the work of Hoenheim of Light….

RISEMBOOL SOUTH—NOW

_We have no secrets—_

_We tell each other everything—_

_About the lovers in our past—and why they didn't last_

_We share a cast of characters from A to Z_

_We know each other's fantasies_

_And tho' we know each other better when we explore—_

_Sometimes I wish—Oftimes I wish_

_That I never, never, never knew—some of those secrets of yours_

Narrow black eyes became inky slits. One corner of the mouth quirked down. One eyebrow shot up. The head tilted slightly to the left. There was a low, irritated rumble from deep in the chest that might have sounded sexy under a different set of circumstances.

Ai-San, who had arrived last night, escorted by Denny Brosh, glanced at Taisa and nodded in sympathy. The Elrics were wonderful people as a rule, but even the most patient of souls couldn't help but become thoroughly frustrated on occasion by the family tendency to Clam Up When It Really Matters. "Damn it," she'd heard Mustang rant back home in Tokyo, "do I have to shove an explosive charge up his rectum to get him to open his goddamned mouth? _Jesus!_"

It surprised her that it was Tricia-San this time that had Mustang grinding his teeth and muttering under his breath. "This is ridiculous," he growled, bombing his coffee mug with another spoonful of sugar before adding another splash of hazelnut creamer. "We have _no secrets_. None. Hell," he set down his cup with a bang, "I'm the _only_ person in the world who actually knows how much she weighs—oh, _gomen_, Ai-san!" Grabbing a napkin, he mopped up the mess that slopped over his saucer. "No, let me—you're not here to keep house! Teddy'd kill me if I let you lift a finger to clean around here."

"And I will grow fat and lazy if I don't, Mustang-san. With Izumi-chan sleeping there is not much for me to do right now. I told Tricia-San that I would be happy to cook for her, but Jeanne-Marie-San has already filled the refrigerator to the bursting point. Would you like me to make you some _onigiri_? I stopped at the Saigon Market . I have umeboshi and nori, and Tricia-San says she always keeps _furikake_ in the pantry."

The mention of the classic Japanese rice seasoning—seaweed, sesame seed, shaved fish and bits of dried vegetables—always made Mustang grin, never forgetting the night when Teddy slipped at the dinner table and commented on how much she liked the _bukakke _on her rice balls. Ed was laughing so hard he put a dent in the table, pounding his fist and howling at her. Teddy snatched up one of the rice balls, marched around the table and smashed it on her uncle's head. Alphonse bit his lip and rolled his eyes heavenwards before collapsing into chuckles, while Jeanne-Marie and Remy looked mystified until Mustang informed them just how Freudian her slip had been. Since then, Roy had teased Teddy mercilessly every time rice appeared at the dinner table—or was even mentioned. At her handfasting he had slipped a jar of furikake into her suitcase before she and Remy left for the hotel—and tied a tiny _pearl_ _necklace_ around the jar, along with a note that read "Remy—don't forget—Teddy likes furikake on her _balls_".

When the pair returned from their two nights at the Battery Carriage House, he fully expected her to give him seven holy hells for hiding the furikake in her bag…but she didn't even mention it. Whatever the hell those two had seen while running around playing Scooby Doo And The Mystery of The Gentleman Ghost from Germany had apparently freaked the pair out so badly they weren't saying much more than _hi_ and _good to be home_ and _where's Izumi?_

He had cornered Teddy in the nursery after giving her some time alone with her daughter. "Okay—spill it."

"Huh?"

"What the hell is this _winter in Munich_ shit, and why did some dead German rocket scientist decide he had to barge in on you and the Cajun on your wedding night?"

"It's…_complicated_." He waited. She fiddled with her daughter's soft black hair, avoiding his eyes. Finally, she offered him an apologetic glance. "Taisa," she said softly, "when I can talk about it, I will. I promise."

Havoc? Sympathetic, but no help at all. "Oncle Edouard and Papa Alphonse—they want us to wait, to talk it over privately. We'll gather the Red Coats tomorrow. Denny has updates on the Portal Stones to discuss. He's spending tonight at the Carriage House—Papa has arranged this."

Mustang frowned. "You think this Heiderich will speak to him?"

A Gallic shrug from Havoc. "Who knows? But there is more than that, my friend. Room Ten—"

"You were in Room Eight—"

"—which is where we saw Alfons Heiderich, yes. But twice we saw a flash of green light coming from the window and under the door in Room Ten. The Brothers think there might be a connection."

"Wait a minute!" Mustang looked alarmed. "Are you suggesting there might be another one of those goddamned stones…_here_? In bloody _Charleston_?"

Havoc looked thoughtful. "When Teddy was busy before the wedding, Maman and I took a walking tour downtown. The stones in the old streets and under the buildings—you knew that they were brought here in ships from Europe? Ballast, _oui_? And when the ships were unloaded, the stones were carted away for foundations. Some of those ships came from England…Germany. _France_. All countries where Hoenheim of Light left Portal Stones, aside from the Caribbean, the Atlantic coast and parts of the Pacific. Is it not in the realm of possibility that one of the stones—whole or in pieces—may have been laid under the foundation of the Battery?"

Well. Another _petite _tidbit of information that a goddamned _Elric_—or three—had neglected to share with him. Fuck.

Fine, then. He'd shut up and bide his time. Sooner or later, he'd get the truth out of them—even if he had to drag it out of them, one at the time. But he didn't like it, oh my, not at all…

"Mustang's got a sharp stick up his ass about something," Teddy sighed, watching her friend roar off in his rented Jeep from the music room window.

"Yeah," said a voice behind her. "Him and everybody else in this hell hole."

_Edwin._ "Hey," she cautioned gently, "this _hell hole_ happens to be my house, kid."

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Aunt Tee." The kid looked genuinely upset.

"You look like you've been shot at and missed, shit at and hit. Wanna talk?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly. "Yeah," he muttered. "But maybe later."

"Okay. Hey, listen—if you want to, you can come up here any time and play around." She gestured towards the half-dozen guitars hanging on her walls, along with an f-body mandolin, a mountain dulcimer, an Irish _bodhran_ drum and a _kalimba_—an African thumb piano. There was also a Korg keyboard, a small mixing board and a laptop computer with an MP3 recorder plugged into the USB port. "Check this out," she grinned, pointing at her newest toy. It was a Roland Cube—probably the best damned practice amplifier in the world. This one was dual channel—meaning he could hook a guitar in one jack, a microphone in the other and then run a line straight to the MP3 line and into his iPod. "Let me show you how it works. If you promise not to be _too_ loud, you can lay down some tracks up here. We'll listen later and clean them up, run them through the board and burn them onto a CD—sound good?"

The way the kid was grinning as he bounded down the steps made her chuckle. "So that's the secret of raising kids, eh? Figure out their weakness—and exploit the shit out of it!"

Her smile faded abruptly when Edward strolled in, not bothering to knock. "Edo."

"Kiddo." He…just _stood_ there. Waiting.

She could barely look at him. Finally, she cleared her throat softly. "If you were looking for Taisa—"

"I was looking for _you_. You—you saw _him_, didn't you? You saw Alfons Heiderich." Was it her imagination, or was there a hint of something…maybe…was it _yearning_…in her uncle's tone? Edo was a shitty liar, a crappy poker player and the easiest person in the world for her to worm secrets out of when she was a kid. There was a tension in his face, but the eyes…oh, those golden eyes were telling a different tale. _Pain…god, look at him! _ She felt faintly sick—pushed it back. "I…_yes_. Yes. I saw Alfons Heiderich."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence Edward cleared his throat. "Wha—what…" He swallowed. He tried again. "Did he…?"

"_He called you 'Meine Liebe", Edo."_

Edward's head bowed. "Oh, god…" His head jerked up sharply. "Did…did you..?"

"_Tell Taisa?_ That's _your_ responsibility, isn't it? Remy says he's staying completely out of this, so don't ask." Something acidic was crawling up her throat, and all she wanted in the world at that moment was to shut herself up the nursery with Izumi and Gigi, to focus on their sweetness, their softness…their innocence.

And she desperately wanted her father, wished she was little again so she could climb into his lap and lay her head on Alphonse's shoulder, strong arms sheltering her as his quiet voice whispered over and over that the bad dreams were over, she was safe and he'd chase all the monsters out from under the bed.

She'd learned that the world wasn't safe when she saw Taisa Mustang being beaten half to death when she was eighteen.

She learned the world wasn't innocent when Alphonse told her the truth about the sins of the Elric brothers—what they had done to her, the monster she became because of their mistakes.

And now…ohh _god!_

That sweet faced, gentle voiced phantom that appeared to her in the Carriage house—how warmly he had greeted her! In his broken English he had called her such a pretty little _mädchen_, said he could see clearly how she looked like her grandmother's picture—the one Herr Hoenheim had shown him that winter in Müchen, when he and Edward had spent Christmas together, that first winter, when nights glowed with candles and soft carols rang from the rafters of even the poorest of homes. The smell of coffee and _liebkuchen_—love cakes—spiced with ginger—a bite for you, a bite for me, we share this together, _ja?_ For there is not quite enough to go around this winter. Not enough food. Not enough coal. Not enough blankets. _No Dad—it's okay. Alfons can stay in here with me. We'll probably talk all night anyway. See you in the morning._

It was just…so _cold_. So cold and so lonely. So good to feel another person's warmth. He lay there on Christmas eve after enduring that god awful midnight service, just so he could hear Heiderich's warm tenor in the choir. _Stille Nacht, Heilig Nacht_…and they raced each other home in the snow until they stumbled on the ice, falling together, laughing fit to burst, lying in the snow like mad drunkards. They rolled and yelled and wrestled and stuffed frosty handfuls down each other's backs until Alfons pinned Edward's shoulders, shoving him down, laughing as the tip of his nose disappeared, pressing him down until he was submerged completely, his golden ponytail wet and stringy with draped over the crusted whiteness_. _

_Lemme up, you son of a bitch!_

_Make me, Ed-WARD!_

_Gerrroffme, damn you!_

_Haaahaaa! This time Germany beats England! Ahaahaaaa!_

_Son of a-- oh…ohhhhh._

The rich blue scarf Gracia had knitted to match his clear blue eyes was coiled around and around metal fingers that pulled him down..down…below the breast of the snow, which trickled down their flushed faces. Before he let Edward up, Alfons had gently licked the crystal flakes that clung to Ed's cheeks and eyelashes

When they got up, Edward didn't punch him…

"….and…your…your…father? What did you tell Alphonse?"

Teddy's eyes slid closed. "Nothing," she answered in a very small voice.

She felt his lips brush her forehead. When she opened her eyes, Edward was gone.

_In the name of honesty_

_In the name of what is fair—_

_You always answer my questions…_

_But they don't always answer my prayers…_

_--Carly Simon, "No Secrets"_

…To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 7

COCONUT JOE'S BEACH BAR AND GRILL—NOW

As usual, Table 7 started with a basket of hot coconut fritters, rolled in cinnamon sugar with a side of duck sauce for dipping. "Ready for your next course?" The pallid, epicene gent in the Citadel sweatshirt lapped the grease from his fingers as his stomach rumbled. "Is that all we get?"

His tablemate peered over the rims of his violet-tinted shades. "Hush, Grossman. I'm sure—what was your name again, my dear? Brittany?"

"—Tiffany—"

"—_whatever_. I'm sure she'll fetch you another round if you're still peckish. And I'll have a few more spring rolls and another drink. You're _sure_ you don't have Absinthe?"

Tiffany looked uncomfortable. "I'll ask again. You still want another Stoli on the rocks?"

"With a grapefruit twist. Yes. Now run along, child. When you get back we'll be ready for our entrée."

"_Absinthe??_ Where the fuck does he think he is—New York City?" John-Jimmy mopped some melted ice off the bar with a sour rag, his eyes flicking towards the patio. "Looks to me like he's a mite…_enchanted_. If ya know what I mean, babe? All he needs is wings and high heels."

Tiffany flipped through her receipt book, bored to death and vigorously cracking a wad of Juicy Fruit between her perfect white teeth. "Fuck if I care. Three more hours before my weekend starts."

"Yeah…was gonna ask you 'bout that." John-Jimmy admired the way the neon of the Corona light lent a golden glow to those pear-shaped scoops of loveliness that greeted him from low neck of her Coconut Joe's t-shirt. "You wanna ride out to Fort Moultrie after shift? I gotta six pack of Amber Bock and a couple of hand-rolled fatties. Could party, is all I'm sayin'."

She fetched him a slow, hot glance that made his chinos uncomfortably tight. "Awright," she drawled. "Might be that Tinkerbell and Jabba the Hutt out there could be big tippers. You can help me blow my tips."

Somewhere between the words _blow_ and _tips_, John-Jimmy's flush of lust turned ashen. "Christ, you better get out there quick, baby," he swore. "Freak at your station looks like he's tryin' to eat the goddamned _tablecloth_."

"I can't take you _anywhere_, can I?"

Gluttony made a hawking sound, like a cat with a hairball the size of a Volkswagen. Sweat began to drip off his forehead as he writhed and gagged until Envy fetched him a stunning _whack!_ between his shoulder blades. "_Told_ you to take her shoes off first.."

"_It…it was…the…GUM."_

"You should have been more discreet. Now we've got to do something with _this_." A slender foot poked at the washboard belly of a part-time bartender curled up and shivering on the floor of the back seat.

"Can I eat him? God…I'm so hungry!"

The boy had narrow hazel eyes and dirty blond hair, yanked back in a tight ponytail. A trimmed fringe of beard around his jaw and his skinny rimless glasses reminded Envy of his perpetual prey. _Elric…_A stiletto snicked out of his pocket as he straddled his captive. "Tell you what," the former homunculus whispered, voice hoarse with desire, "You can have the _leftovers_…"

RESEMBOOL SOUTH—2.4 miles away…

"Denny Brosh here."

"Denny? Edward here."

"Hey boss! Just calling back. I'm in Room Eight, right where Teddy and Remy were last night. Nice place. They brought me brandy and chocolates—and I get free use of a touring bike if I want to ride down to the Battery—"

"I don't give a damn if the room comes with hot and cold running blowjobs," Edward snapped testily. "Is there anybody in Room Ten?"

"Nope. Saw the maintenance men working around, though. The concierge says that the toilet got stopped up by the people who were there last two nights. Found a woman's faux fur jacket jammed in the bowl. They think the previous occupants might have stolen it, so the cops asked them not to book the suite until they've checked it out."

"Excellent. I'll be over around nine."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Er…boss? Look…these rooms are kinda small…and… um…the bed…._well_…"

"Idiot! I'm not going there to fuck you. I'm going there to talk to Alfons. Don't think he'd be showing up around here unless there's trouble for us."

"What did Teddy say?"

"She saw him." There was a tense silence. "She saw him," he repeated. "She and Remy couldn't make out what he was saying. I speak German, and he might find it easier to communicate directly with me. Only….don't tell anybody I'm coming up. Not yet. I'll tell 'em myself."

He snapped his phone shut and shoved it into his jacket pocket.. _Taisa…I'm sorry. It's just...I have to know. I have to tell him…_

_Tell him what? That I'm sorry he died? That he's another soul I carry like an endless weight, a chain of disasters that drags me down, year after year…all the mistakes I've made, the lives lost because of my goddamn poor judgment and mistakes…_

_Mom.._

_Al…_

_The people of Lior I thought I was helping when I exposed Cornello…_

_Greed…_

_Oh, god…the list goes on. And then…there's *you*, Meine Liebe. Maybe there was a treatment for your lungs—I don't know. But you tried to get me home and ended up with a bullet in the back, all for my sake._

_And now Teddy and Remy know the truth about you. They've seen your beautiful face…so like my brother…_

"You were _not_ my brother," he said aloud, his metal fist smashing against the rock he perched on at the tide line. "It—it wasn't like that at all! You were just…so…goddamned…good for me."

"_N'onc' _?"

His head jerked around. Jean-Remy Havoc stood there in a grey New Orleans Saints sweat suit, his infant daughter snuggled tight to his chest in that sling thingamajig that Hughes had given him at the baby shower. His fair cheeks were ruddy from the sun and he was smiling gently. Edward scooted over to make room, relived that the Cajun's expression was as open and welcoming as ever. He had used the word _N'onc_'_, _which Teddy informed him was Cajun for _notre l'oncle_—our uncle_._ The use of that possessive gave him hope that at least Remy might have forgiven him, even if Teddy was still in shock and struggling with what she'd learned.

He held out his arms for Izumi, who cooed contentedly the moment she nestled against his chest. "She knows good when she sees it," Havoc observed, offering him a sip from his water bottle.

"_Sweet_ iced tea??" he shuddered, handing it back. "Revolting."

Companionable silence flowed between them, punctuated by soft murmurs from the drowsy child whose face was already showing a marked resemblance to her biological sire. Against her ivory skin her black brows were like fine brushstrokes of sumi-i ink against white silk, and under the softness of babyhood he could see early hints that her cheeks would have the same smooth curve, her mouth that same quirk, somewhere between a smile and smirk.

Taisa had it too, and the thought of his lover made him uncomfortable. _He's put up with a lot of shit in the past year. We've made it through before…but I don't know how he's going to cope with this revelation._

"Love is love, _Edo_." Havoc had never called him _that_ before. His keen blue eyes were focused on the horizon as he spoke. "If my _petite ange_—my Teddy—had she been born in the flesh of a man, would I have loved her as dearly as I do now? If she wore a different face—a different body---a man's body---what would I do? For my heart is not inclined towards my own kind. And yet---the spirit that lights the eyes, that fills the heart—that spirit would be the one I cherish now. I would be drawn to her as I was the night we met, ten years ago. I could not forget her, even though we met only briefly. I kissed her in Amestris—and I claim her now. So—_N'onc'_—what do you think I would have done?"

Edward answered without hesitation. "You'd love her. You'd find a way."

"_D'accord_. This soul that has been…may we say _twinned_? This one whom you gave the whole of your life to love and protect and save, this _brother_ of the heart, Papa Alphonse. You saw his spark in another's face and were drawn into loving. This Alfons—he is a good soul. I like him. Had he worn another face you would have loved him just as dearly, no?"

"Y-yes."

"It is only the matter of his face and name that give us pause. And it will be hardest for Alphonse and his children to bear."

Ed met his steady gaze. "You don't condemn me?"

"_Le coeur a ses raisons qui ne raisonnent rien savent de_." Tucking Izumi safely back into her Snuggli, he rose and offered Edward Elric his hand. "Pascal."

Edward's fingers closed around Havoc's. "Who also said, 'we know Truth not only by Reason, but by the Heart.'"

BATTERY PARK

There was something almost…well…_familiar_ about the Eurasian man unwrapping his dinner on the park bench at sunset. Falman couldn't quite place where they'd met before. _Not a cop_ he decided. Not someone he'd known at the Academy. And not somebody he'd arrested, either. The fellow was neatly dressed, like maybe a lawyer or stockbroker who decided to pick up a gourmet meal and dine in the park rather than in the posh comfort of a beachfront condo in Wild Dunes.

No, whatever else, the memories the black haired man was evoking were good ones, and Vito Falman was a detective that relied as heavily on instinct as on his considerable intelligence. He wandered over and offered the stranger a friendly smile. "Looks good," he nodded, gesturing towards the _onigiri_ the man was about to take a bite out of. "I didn't know there were any restaurants downtown that had takeout _obento_ meals."

The black haired man glanced up sharply. Then the right corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, half smirk. "A peace offering from my best friend, actually. About the only time she makes onigiri stuffed with _ebi_ tempura." The man twitched aside the cotton _furoshiki_ cloth and gestured towards the top layer of the tray. "Like to try some? She always makes enough for me and my partner, but he's….off on one of the Ghost Walks. I decided to picnic out here."

"Thanks." Falman sat down and accepted one of the rice balls, neatly belted with _nori_ seaweed and rolled in toasted sesame seed. Two bites gave him a healthy respect for his companion's circle of friends. "A sushi chef, is she?"

"A writer, actually. She learned the technique from my mother, who was native to Koukura. Japan." A slim, strong hand was extended. "Taisa Mustang."

"Vito Falman. I came over because I swear I think we've met before. Are you on the force?"

"Research scientist, actually. I work for the Elric Foundation, although these days I spend more time approving grants and fellowships than I do in the lab."

Falman's eyes widened and he smiled suddenly. " Elric? As in Professor Edward Elric? I took a summer class with him back at Berkeley, way back in '76. Absolutely brilliant. I was a rookie cop back then, but I took night classes for fun."

His companion grinned. "If you took one of Edward's classes for fun, you're either a genius or a masochist. I was his student assistant back then—that's why we look familiar to one another."

Falman colored slightly. "Were you the---uh—?"

"The one he got fired over? Indeed." The scandal over the visiting professor getting caught in a love nest off campus with his assistant –as well as two notorious campus radicals, a vocal Feminist and the legendary pothead "Screws" Hughes—had led to the professor's dismissal. "I still love to give him hell over it in odd moments."

"You're still together?"

Mustang smirked. "In spite of my better judgment, yes. And the pothead and his family are down here too, because the Feminist got married two days ago. She's the one who made the sushi. Small world, ne?"

Falman chuckled. "Small world. I'm guessing the Professor is getting up there in years." In fact, part of what rocked the campus was that Mustang had been barely nineteen at the time he'd been caught with the older man. Elric had been dismissed but had pleaded eloquently before the board not to revoke Mustang's scholarship. In the end the younger man was allowed to remain, although it had been difficult for him and his companions to live down the scandal. To their credit, his friends stuck up for him—in fact Hughes garnered quite a reputation for rearranging the faces of anybody who harassed his buddy.

"It's amazing what vanity can do to a man. Face lifts. Collagen…"

"Grecian Formula—"

"No, he goes to a salon," Mustang was laughing now. "Thinks it actually matters to me. It would take more than a few grey hairs to split us up after three decades."

It pleased Taisa that Falman wasn't unnerved by his open admission of sexual preference. "Well, I'm glad you're still together after all this time. I've been married twice and have the alimony check stubs to prove it. That's why I'm working the park tonight—there was another ghost sighting at the Carriage House this week. Bunch of media types and crystal-crunching weirdoes hanging around, hoping to see the Gentleman Ghost."

"My partner is one of them." One dark brow arched cynically. "Ed believes it's all rubbish. He's supposed to be on one of the chartered tours…but I know damn well he's skulking around here, determined to prove it's all a hoax. I decided to hang around to watch him make an ass of himself—as usual."

"Not a believer in the fabled ghosts of Charleston then, eh?"

Mustang snorted. "He'll put out milk and cookies for Santa before he buys into that crap."

ROOM EIGHT—THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE

It was rubbish—but Remy had insisted this be done right if he was going to do it at all. _"You must leave an offering of favored foods. It is not for the taste—it is the smell of it, non? Spirits are strengthened by memories. Heiderich was able to stay as long as he could with Teddy by talking about the winter in Munich. He spoke of running in the snow with you—about singing in the choir on Christmas Eve…about how hungry everybody was. If you see him, you must evoke memories to make him strong, so that he may tell you why he has returned."_

"Ridiculous," Edward bitched under his breath as he poured out the freshly made coffee and arranged a handful of spicy _liebkuchen_ biscuits on a clean room service plate. "About as logical as leaving cookies out for Santa." A good stout German beer and a platter of white sausages would have been better, but he'd have wanted to scarf them down himself. Instead he had stopped at Yankee Candle and purchased a house-warmer that smelt wonderfully of evergreens and forests—it was actually named Christmas Wreath—and lit it, placing it beside the offerings. "Evergreens. Spice cookies—coffee. Only thing missing is the smell of wet wool coats."

_Or…the smell of skin and damp hair…the faint hint of wood smoke from the night air, wood smoke and coal fires…and the taste of your mouth…and the cries we muffled against each other's necks as we clung together under the thin blankets, trying not to wake Hoenheim…_

"_Meine Liebe?"_

It startled him, because he didn't exactly hear it with his ears. The voice—gentle as ever—was something he _felt_, like it was being carried through him through the prickling of his nerves. Then…something _breathed_ against the back of his neck.

"Heilige Scheisse!" His metal elbow sent the coffee mug to the carpet. The shimmering phantom before him only smiled, arms outstretched, bending down…enfolding him

"_Mein beliebter Freund…meine ed-WARD el-RICK."_

"I can't believe this shit," Ed whispered once he'd found his voice again. "Dead EIGHTY-FIVE Goddamned years—and you're still giving me crap about my pronunciation…."

"_Don't forget to hang up your stockings boys."_

_Edward had rolled his eyes with cynical disdain. "I can't believe he's saying this, huh, Alfons? It's not like we're children, for chrissakes."_

"_Well…they are rather damp, mein freund. Perhaps Herr Hoenheim is suggesting that we let them dry on the hearth overnight, ja?"_

_Once they had closed the door behind them Hoenheim had tiptoed back to his room, returning to the chilly parlor with two small wrapped parcels and a branch of evergreen jammed into a pot of dirt caged from flower shop downstairs. Once Gracia understood what the older man was planning she lent him a handful of pretty mercury glass baubles and a small string of twisted silver paper. "These are for trimming wreathes, so they shouldn't be too heavy." She also gave him bunches of evergreen trimmings and a tray of freshly made liebkuchen for Christmas morning as her own gift._

_Soon as the stockings were dry he shoveled a fat orange in the toes and then crammed them full of nuts and wrapped candies before admiring his handiwork. This first Solstice in Munich—correction, Christmas—was going to be a scanty one—but everybody was a little bit hungry this year. He had managed to get his hands on a small goose, which Miss Gracia had offered to roast for him alongside the one she'd be sharing with her parents downstairs. That and some mashed potatoes, roasted turnips and carrots and a tiny bit of stollen—that was a finer feast than many would be sharing that winter._

_He was about to turn in himself when his attention was snared by the muffled sound of panting. Edward had never been a delicate boy, but young Heiderich had had a bit of a cough earlier. _

_Returning with a blanket from his own bed, Hoenheim gently cracked the door to the boy's room. The soft sounds that carried out into the hallway now, evidently, had nothing to do with asthma._

_Face burning, he closed the door quietly. Then he gathered his coat and headed out into the darkness of Christmas eve. Even in the bitter cold, even on the eve of Christ's birthday, he reasoned, there might be at least one woman—or even a man—who might accept a bottle of imported French brandy as payment for services rendered…and gratefully received by a lonely man, so very, very far from home…_

_Returning hours later, the bitter taste lingered on his tongue and his mouth was slightly bruised—the sailor had demanded quid pro quo and had taken much longer than Hoenheim had. The older man would have preferred a woman but the strasse had been virtually deserted save for the toughs that hung around the beer halls. Still, they had parted amicably, the sailor wishing him a joyous Christmas as he stuffed himself back into his trousers._

_Just before breakfast he heard the soft whimpering again. When the boys emerged, dressed and flushed and grinning, Edward looked happier and more animated than he had since crossing to the Earthside of the Gateway. Although the uncommon parallels between this young German boy and his own dear son in Amestris made him uneasy, 'Liebe ist Liebe'_ _he reminded himself as the boys eagerly tore the newspaper off the matching leather bound notebooks and fountain pens he had wrapped for them—black for Edward, deep brown for Heiderich…_

The twin leather notebooks—stained from a lifetime of use—lay abandoned. The coffee had soaked into the carpet, unnoticed. As he drew each shuddering breath, he could smell the sweetness of evergreen and spiced cookies. He _thought_ he could smell the hint of blood and freshly starched linen and soft, clean hair. The translucent fingers that gently rubbed his shuddering back left faint tingles of energy where they brushed his skin. "Edward…no…not like this we meet. Not to weep, _Freund von meinem Herzen_—friend of my heart. No regrets."

"Damn you—God _damn you_, Alfons! Why the hell did you get involved with Hesse and the Thule Society? Didn't you know they'd use all your knowledge about rocketry to make weapons—to kill people?? Christ—ohh _God_---when I saw what they did---"

"What they did—they did to a _body_, Meine Liebe. _I_ am still here. I've been here, watching over you, all these many years." He chuckled gently. "And on Christmas Eve you dropped a snowball down my back because I said I knew you had a guardian angel."

Edward wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Superstitious religious bullshit, Alfons."

"Edward, you _dumkopf! _ _Verstehen Sie nichts?_ Those who watch from the Gateway—_we_ are the angels who watch. Me. _Ihr Vater, _Hoenheim—who does not know how to not meddle, that one. Your dear mother and teacher…and the young Colonel who guards your dear Taisa, who has made you so happy for so many years."

"—You know who Taisa is?"

Heiderich pressed his forehead to Edward's, laughing warmly. "Ohhh…sweet ignorant _junge_." The vision seemed to melt sweetly into his own skin, making Edward shiver with need. "Who was it that guided Herr Doktor Simon Rogers to offer to finance the education of his brother's _Kind-von-Liebe_ by the pretty nurse from Japan? And Herr Rogers was glad to do it, so proud he was that young Roy was so bright, so full of promise."

"That was _your_ doing?"

"_Ja_. And the pretty babies in the cradle—they can still see us, _Versteht?_ They have not lost their 'eyes-of-believing' yet. But some day they will speak of it as women, how they remembered two young soldiers in blue who sat by their cribs and protected them and warned their parents in dreams when trouble was on the doorstep."

Two soldiers in blue? That could only mean…"I—I don't understand, Alfons. Roy and Maes—they're _here_." He swallowed hard against the hammering of his heart as he continued. "My brother—_Alphonse_—he's here. I mean…hell…if he's _you_…then….how…?"

For an instant, he thought he felt a warm, melting softness against his lips, and he struggled with an overwhelming desire to touch himself. A husky whisper, too close, too intimate to be a ghost. _"As above, so below, Meine Liebe._ Have you forgotten? A tree," the voice seemed to move inside his blood as his breath quickened, his skin heated by an invisible caress, " has branches we can behold, but the _roots_ that nourish it are beneath the earth. Alphonse—Tricia—Taisa—all of them---even you, _dumkopf_, are the branches in the sun. And from the sun come the shadows—the reflections and echoes—that part of you that remains inside the Gateway to nourish and guide you until death reunites what has been halved and parted."

"Then…you are not a _ghost_."

"_Ah! Jetzt die leichte Morgendämmerungen! Sie verstehen._ The light dawns and you understand!" The sparks under his skin raised gooseflesh as if to prove a point. "I am—how would you say it—a _Fetch_. An _echo._ The shadow cast by his sun. Separate—ja, for your brother would not love you as I do, not the love and yearning of the flesh…like… _so_…"

"_ALFONS! Gott im Himmel!!!"_

He had cleaned himself up, red faced. _Not_ apologetic, damn it. If anything, he could see Alfons clearer now. "Now, taste the _liebkuchen_, that I may enjoy it through you, _Meine Liebe_," the dead boy told him, "and I shall tell you more…

"Remember when you awakened in England in that boy's body? When your father asked you if you understood what 'transmute' meant. There was a moment when the world became a blur and a voice said, _who are you? That_, my friend, was the other side of your soul—your Doppleganger. A young boy orphaned in the war that Herr Hoenheim found sleeping in the street one night. He recognized who you were and gave you a home—and when the air-raid sirens screamed and the two of you ran out into the street—it was then this boy felt you overshadow him, and you remained until he died in the wreckage of the burning zeppelin."

"Because _Rose_ was willing to let that bitch _Dante_ use her baby!" Anger twisted inside him, anger he had long though to have been laid to rest.

The voice hushed him softly. "That is why I have come, Edward. To give warning. To tell you of the wounded one—your older brother, the one that screams and hates. This one has found out your father's folly. Those stones—those _verdammt_ Portal Stones your father has shaped. He knows how to use them. There is a stone here—pieces of it, brought across as ballast in a sailing ship. A piece is in the courtyard. When your niece Winn-Sara stepped on it, she activated it. She was visiting this inn, seeing if it would suit for her sister's wedding night—"

"_Where is it_!" Edward was jolted out of his reverie. "Maybe I can dig it out."

"I'll show you, it is a small piece, not larger than your hand. But the biggest piece is in the foundation, two rooms from here. It lies flat, under the bathroom floor, right under the toilet. Your brother—the one who calls himself Envy—and his _saftig_ companion who is always hungry—"

"CHRIST! You don't mean _Gluttony_ is here too??"

"Greene and Grossman, they call themselves now—"

"Grossman and…goddamn. 'Greene' with _Envy_. Jeeze. Not only is he a psychotic bastard, he's making sucky puns. One more reason to take him out."

"_Edward_…you must be careful. What he wants—is to stop your family from training future alchemists—people who can guard the portals. He intends to bring the homunculi into this world, to that end. And to avenge himself upon your father and his descendants."

Ed's hands shot up in protest. "Wait—whoa…hold on. If Dad is in the Gateway, why the fuck is Envy seeking him _here_? Are you…shit…are you saying that Dad's Doppleganger is walking around…on Earth…right _now??_"

"Right now he's not walking. He is riding to the police station. He's just been arrested—for throwing rocks at a priest."

SULLIVAN'S ISLAND DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY

"…Okay….the visiting Padre says he's not going to press charges—but he wants to speak to your Mom and Dad. So," Officer Breda waved a donut in the general direction of the sullen blond kid in the _Death Note_ t-shirt. "You wanna sit here all night, or are you going to tell us where you live? I know you're not local. You staying on the island?"

"Yeah."

"So? Who you stayin' with?"

"My aunt."

"Who is?"

The kid tugged nervously at his ponytail. _"Elric_. Tricia Elric. On I'on Street…."

MARKET STREET, OFF THE BATTERY

A soft jingle caught Miz Joan's attention just before closing.

Ah…the special order. The one with his grandfather's gloves. "Mr. Mustang! I got your message," the _parfumer_ beamed. "Your blend is ready. It smells _wonderful_. Let me let you try it—see what you think."

The tiny shop had been around Market Street since Elvis was on the charts. Crammed chockablock from floor to ceiling with exotic perfumes, colognes, toilet waters, soaps, oils, incense, bath salts and potpourri, Parfums de Mari had been a Mecca in the south as a place to find obscure fragrances or to have custom scents designed or antique perfumes replicated. Teddy had found a rare cologne there called Fragrant Honey Water that was crafted at an apiary in England. It was no longer made but De Mari had a few bottles that had survived the flood of Hurricane Hugo, their labels still flecked with mud. Ever since she'd gone there for bath gels and lotions and homemade soaps, and when she and Taisa had noticed the scent that clung to the Colonel's old gloves, she suggested that he take them down to Miz Joan to see if she could identify it.

A week later, she'd emailed Taisa to let him know she'd made a close replication of the original scent, and since he was already on the Battery, waiting to sneak in on Ed and all that bullshit at the Battery Carriage House, he might as well pick it up. He'd phoned Denny and advised him that he was stopping by but only got Denny's voice mail. "Probably down at Tommy Condon's with Hughes and Gracia," he reasoned, deciding to ring back after stopping by Di Mari's.

"This…here, let me dip some blotter paper in so you can test this…as I was saying, this is really special, Mr. Mustang. I have no idea what the original scent was called, but if your grandfather Roy wore this cologne he must have had ladies chasing him in the street! _Very_ unusual blend—the sandalwood is quite rare, has almost a burnt, smoky scent—not your average Mysore. That's your base. Accents of cedar—trace of oak moss, vetiver…touch of amber. The top note was hard to get my nose around…but I tried true vanilla bourbon—Mexican rather than Madagascar or Tahitian. Just the faintest trace of it. Now—wave that around in the air—give it a moment to mix with the air before you sniff it—yes, just like that. Now…see how you like it."

Taisa inhaled deeply. Several minutes passed. After he found his voice again, he flicked out his American Express card. "It's…_him_. Thank you so much—and do you have any Kama Sutra vanilla Oil of Love? I'll take the largest bottle you've got."

SULLIVAN'S ISLAND POLICE STATION

Sergeant Breda pushed a box of Krispy Kreme donuts towards the wary boy who'd been hauled in for throwing rocks at—what was his name? Oh yeah, Father Hunter—Cornello Hunter---weird name. That's what the priest called himself. Saw the kid skulking around the grounds of Fort Moultrie after sunset and spoke to him, asking him what he was doing, warning him that it was dangerous to be walking along the rock wall after dark. The kid allegedly started cussing a blue streak and chucking bits of shell and gravel at the older man, looking serene in his clerical collar and neat black slacks. Anyway, the old padre was willing to forget it, provided he could speak to the boy's family.

As for the kid….well, Breda was nobody's fool, all appearances to the contrary. Bull-necked and thickset, he could nonetheless out shoot, out drink…and out think…anybody else at the station. Truth was, the kid was young, good looking, moody as hell and carrying a chip on his shoulder the size of a Humvee—and underneath all that sullen bullshit he could sense the kid was seriously _freaked out_. At the mention of the priest the boy shied back, as if repulsed. "Son…I gotta ask this. Nobody…ah…he—that's to say, Father Hunter didn't…_approach you_, did he. I mean, he didn't try to touch you or ask you to go somewhere he shouldn't, did he?

Those blue eyes went from resentful and sullen to _flat and dead_ between one breath and other. The narrow chin jerked to one side—a protective gesture Breda had learned when talking to kids who'd been molested. "Nuh uh," he grunted. "Look," why don't you just throw me in the cell. Lock me up already."

"Nahhh—no sense locking you up," he grinned, trying to get the boy to relax. "No Playstation. You'd go insane in there. We're just going to run over to get your Aunt and let her talk with the Padre—and then we'll let her take you home. Wanna Krispy Kreme? They're still warm. G'wan. I eat any more of 'em and I'll lose my six-pack." He slapped his round belly with a chuckle. "You want some milk? I think we got 2%."

"Got any coffee?"

"Christ, kid—that'll stunt your growth. You're mom let you drink coffee?"

"She ditched us, so it doesn't matter what she thinks. And Aunt Teddy lets me have decaf at Starbuck's."

A few minutes later the kid was sucking down a cup of black coffee and poking suspiciously at a crème filled pastry. "Gross. Looks like yak cum. And the jelly ones look like they're bleeding."

Breda caught himself grinning at the little smartass. "Thanks for ruining my appetite."

The kid grinned back instinctively. "Great. I get to finish the box." He crammed a whole jelly donut in his mouth and snatched the box off the table, wrapping his thin arms around it triumphantly.

"Why, you little—"

_KER—BLAMMMMM!_ The door slammed open—kicked open, actually by a size 9 Tony Lama cowgirl boot. "EDWIN! WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN' ON???" The intruder was six feet tall if she was an inch, and that didn't count the brown felt cowboy hat covered with silver and turquoise conchos that crowned her silver hair. Cigarette in one hand, cell phone in the other, the old woman marched right up to the Elric kid, yanked the box of donuts out of his arms, grabbed him hard by both shoulders and gave him a good shake. "YOU LITTLE PISSANT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THE POLICE STATION? YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF US! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, CHER?"

Edwin was smothered in her buckskin jacket. Jeanne-Marie put her lips to his ear and hissed softly, "now keep your goddamned mouth _shut_ and I'll get you out of here. Don't forget to call me _Grandma!"_

"Oh…oh _Grandma_!" Edwin sobbed theatrically. "I fucked up. I fucked up real bad, and…and…now they're gonna lock me up with the pervs and winos and child molesters…and…_Republicans_—OWWW!"

Jeanne-Marie removed the heel of her boot from his instep. "Oh, sorry, _bebe_. Didn't mean to step on your foot.," she fussed loudly, then muttered under her breath, "Boy, you just _axin'_ for me to whip voodoo on your ass, non?"

An hour later they were on the other side of the bridge in Mount Pleasant, crammed into a booth in the smoking section of the Waffle House. "Two coffees—leaded for me, decaf for the kid. Gimme a cheese omelet, darlin'. Cheeseburger and fries for him—and bring us a bottle of ketchup!"

Jeanne-Marie slapped the bottle of Heinz until a wave of crimson _plooted_ over her eggs. Edwin eyed her with undisguised revulsion, then did the same thing to his mountain of fries before upending the salt shaker over his plate. They chewed awhile in silence before the Cajun fired up a Marlboro Light and blew a thin stream of smoke over his head. "Okay," she rasped finally. "First thing you gotta know when you run into somethin' that _looks_ human but _ain't_ human—is run like a motherfucker! Right now you don't know jack shit. You're likely to get yerself in big trouble. Son'bitch coulda killed ya. What—you think you're Harry-fuckin'-_Potter_ ??"

Edwin Elric squeezed his burger so hard his tomato slice shot halfway across the table. "Wha—what—I—_shit!_"

"Watch yer goddamned language, kid. WAITRESS! Darlin', will you gimme a couple o' to-go boxes so I can pack dis up? An' two apple pies to go wid 'em!"

TOMMY CONDON'S IRISH PUB, OFF THE BATTERY

Well _damn_. Sure beat the hell out of ghost sitting.

Denny Brosh dove in for another scoop of that delicious crab dip and chased it with an icy mouthful of ale before roaring out another chorus of "No Nay Never" along with everybody else in the bar, drunk or sober. In front of the raised stage Hughes was swinging his wife in a slow, lazy waltz. Surprising he was so light on his feet, tall as he was. Gracia was giggling madly and singing along with the Bog Rats. Condon's was Teddy's favorite watering hole downtown; she had recommended it to the Hugheses as a good way to get out on the town for the night. After all, she argued, now that Ai-San was here to look after the little girls Gracia had no more excuses not to relax a little. And since Edward had practically shoved him out of the room, he'd have to do _something_. So he'd snagged a table near the stage, only Gracia had pulled him over to join them and since he felt like he was intruding the least he could do was order up some crab dip and chicken fingers and pay for the beer—hell, he had an expense account, didn't he? Why not write it off?

Guiltily, he checked his cell phone—1 missed call. _Mustang_. _Probably wondering where the hell his husband is_, Denny reasoned. _Thank god I don't have to deal with Ed on that level. He'd drive me nuts—but at least he's not a cheater…_

THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE—ROOM 8

_"Edward! Beruhigen Sie sich! _Calm yourself—the boy is fine. The Cajun woman is with him now. She will see him home."

Edward just stared at Alfons. "Jeanne-Marie? How the hell did she know he was in trouble?"

Alfons chuckled. "By her art—and because she saw him sneaking out after Fritz told his son not to go out tonight. She caught up with him by the old fort but not before Envy sighted him."

Edward dropped his head wearily into his hands. "Did that sick bastard—"

"Touch him. Yes. The boy punched him, then threw rocks at him. But Envy made the mistake of taking a priest's shape—no doubt because there was a church nearby. He intended, no doubt, to hide there. But there were no charges pressed, and Edwin is safely away."

Edward's hands shook as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "I'd say thank God—but I'm an atheist…which reminds me, Alfons---_is_ there a God?"

"Since I have chosen to stay close, to do the work we must do, we of this Eggregore, I cannot say that I have met Him yet…but there is _Good_. Ja. Even if that light—we see it only in each other's hearts. _That_ I can believe in. And," he added softly, hands flowing beneath Edward's skin, "there is _Love_."

"A-Alfons." Not much of a protest, admittedly, but at least he tried…even though it felt _so_ goddamned good. "I…I love Taisa. We…can't…please…not again." Behind closed lids scrolled images of nights in Munich, nights before the harsh chemicals ate through the lining of Alfons' already delicate lungs. Nights when he was still strong, when Ed didn't have to be so careful, so afraid each gasp of pleasure might be the last for his lover. _I loved two dying men. Alfons was suffocating to death before my eyes. The Colonel sacrificed himself willingly. We didn't know he'd make it out of Bradley's palace alive, albeit half blind and badly wounded. Neither of them had anything to lose, so we were so desperate, so frantic in our clinging to one other in the dark. But Taisa—we had the time, we *grew* together. Loving is different when Death isn't panting down the back of your neck. When you actually have to deal with each other's bullshit, day by day, year after year. Yeah, the desperation of love under fire is pretty fuckin' exciting…but there's no way I'd trade my husband for any of that…only…GOD…Alfons…_

"No…Alfons…you gotta listen to me. This would—god, it would kill Taisa. We're—we're gonna be married in a few weeks."

Again, the soft breath in the ear that made Ed shiver. "I know, Meine Liebe…not my wish to come between you, no, when he makes you so happy. Even when it is so sweet… _Ich kann Sie tief innerhalb meines Körpers fühlen_, so deep inside me…I have been so empty. To touch so…even when there is no sweetness of skin to skin…_ja_… So _gut_. ..yes...let _uns haben dies_...now only, Mine Edward…"

Every button was snug. His belt was clasped. But where his collar was open the fair skin flushed as an unseen mouth moved _under_ his skin—Alfons was _inside_ him now, touching without hands in places he had no name for. He could only shudder and sob, mouthing the words _please…please, Alfons!_, not even sure if he was asking for more or for it to end. God, it was too much-- _Zu viel_—English and German a muddle inside his head—he was going to die in a puddle of his own sweat and the blood that was undoubtedly going to start leaking out of his ears when his brains exploded and his heart burst…

SULLIVAN'S ISLAND

Edwin was getting damned nervous. The old Swamp Hag had driven him right back to Fort Moultrie, pulled over and gestured for him to get out of the car. "He ain't comin' back. Know dat for a fact. He beatin' feet the hell outta here. But you an' I need to talk, _d'accord?_ See—trouble wid _you_, boy, is dat you're like ol' Edward all over once again. You too smart for yer own good. An' you mad at the worl', 'cause your maman's gone steppin'. You think you live in de house o' secrets—and you _right_. An' before I take you home—and you gotta tell your Papa Fritz and your Aunt Tee—yeah, cher, _an'_ you gotta face Papa Alphonse an' Edward—you an' I havin' a _coeur á coeur_ 'bout the way things _be_ 'round this family. But first," she pulled an empty peanut butter jar out of her enormous leather handbag, "I gotta find me a _spider_…"

THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE

After picking up the room key from Denny down at Condon's, Taisa nipped down the back alleys and into the courtyard of the Carriage House. There was a trio of middle aged couples with cameras, posing in front of the doors to Room Ten. One of them was wearing a Roswell t-shirt. "Why am I not surprised?" Taisa chuckled as he shifted his basket of goodies, all for the two of them. _Kama Sutra Oil of Love. Champagne Truffles from Lucas, finest chocolatier in Charleston. A black silk blindfold. A pair of handcuffs. Several feathers of varying stiffness and length. That nifty little vibrator Hughes told him about, the one with the tiny bullet that slips on a silicon band around the tongue…and he was wearing the new scent Miz Joan had crafted for him. "Call it…'Amestris'" he'd suggested. Already a dozen women—and half a dozen men—had commented on how good he smelled._

"No sense wasting a perfectly good four poster bed," he smirked as he let himself into Room 8….

_"**EDWARD??**_**"**

_A scent of cinders and sandalwood. God—there's ink on my back and a dictionary under my ass and I don't give a damn because I've needed you for so long…Roy…Colonel…you bastard…I found you after all those years…Taisa….oh god…I love you so goddamned much._ "I…yes…god, I love you!"

He was bucking and writhing on top of the Battenberg lace coverlet, fingers blindly clawing the mattress. Alfons may have interpenetrated his cells—but the familiar smoky cologne was triggering a deeper need, a more lasting love.

Unfortunately, the object of that lasting love was neither stimulating his nerves…nor was he a mind reader.

"Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen? May I have your attention, please?"

A half dozen heads swiveled in the direction of the ashen-faced man standing in the doorway of the fabled Room Eight, where the Gentleman Ghost had appeared a few days ago, driving out a honeymoon couple, some Cajun and his wife. Half a dozen camera phones were poised and ready in hopes that Something Was About To Happen.

"I know you've come to see the Gentleman Ghost—would you settle for an _incubus?"_ Offering them a sick grin, he swung the door wide before he stormed across the courtyard, pausing to dump a pair of handcuffs and some love oil in the trash before disappearing into the night…

…._TO BE CONTINUED…_


	8. Chapter 8

"GENTLEMAN GHOST NOT SO GENTLEMANLY, ACCORDING TO SCIENTIST AND FANTASY AUTHOR EDWARD ELRIC"—_Charleston News and Courier_

_kerBLAMMM!!!_ A size 9 Tony Lama cowgirl boot kicked in the bedroom door of Edward Elric, PhD at precisely 8:15 am. "Mornin', Toots!" she boomed cheerfully, slamming a heavy tray down on his bedside table. "Now," she flapped out a napkin and shoved it under his chin, completely ignoring the fact that he was still in his street clothes, profoundly hung over…and _alone_. "We got yer coffee—Sumatran, fresh ground and French pressed by Miz Ai. We got sausages. We got extra-crispy bacon. We got us a big ol' stack o' blueberry pancakes and real maple syrup and enough butter to clog your arteries. And we got a tall glass of frosty, hand squeezed orange juice. And I'm gonna sit right here and watch you eat every goddamn mouthful."

Ed cracked open one bleary eye and surveyed the breakfast tray with a shudder of disgust. "That's enough for two people, Jeanne."

"Right," she snapped. "An' one of 'em's been drove out with a broken heart, so you gonna eat his share an' yours."

"Why?"

She lit a Marlboro and blew the smoke right into his face. "'Cause you should never get yer ass kicked on an empty stomach. _Dig in_, you sonuvabitch, before I shoot ya where ya don't have wires."

"NOTED HOMOSEXUAL HUMANITARIAN AND AUTHOR DENIES BEING MOLLESTED BY GHOST' AT POPULAR INN"—_USA Today_

"If anybody can find him, _petite_, it will be Mays. He has a knack for such things, no? He will find our Taisa and then you shall sit down with him and he will listen to reason and come home to us again. Shhhh…hush now. No more tears. He will not leave us. _Jamais!_ Even if he and _N'onc Edo_ are fighting, he will come back.."

"Why the hell would he do that, Remy?"

Havoc placed a warm and wriggling bundle in her arms. "Our _petite fleur Amestrianne_. She is the child he and Edo can never make together, yet because of their love she came to be. And it may be that the love of this child will mend the hurts between them—and between you and Edo as well—ah, non! Not to cry, _cherie_…come here…shhhh…even this sorrow will pass…"

"I—I just don't understand it, Remy!" She fought to keep her voice low. "It's…_incestuous_! God! I can't imagine what's going through Daddy's mind right now!"

"Has he spoken of this to you?"

"_No!_ He's not saying _anything_! That's what's got me scared. He's acting so goddamn calm and normal."

"Then," he ventured gently, "perhaps there is another way to look at this, non?" He nuzzled her soft brown hair, quietly judging if she was ready to hear what he had concluded. "If you had gone through the Gateway alone, if you had not found the Colonel…if the stone sealed fast and there was no hope of return, that would be a devastating loss, non? For you and I, we would long for one another, my Teddy. Let us say this happened, and you knew I was dead…and imagine if you were not so grown up. Say you were as young as you were in Berkeley. Alone…far from home…and one day you met a wise, spirited young man of your age with a great heart that he took such pains to keep hidden from the world. Say that you met him and was befriended…and he mentored you in alchemy. Sympathy might draw you closer…closer yet. He had lost much. You had lost everything. Who can say but that one day your hands might clasp and eyes might meet eyes with a new way of seeing…and sympathy might deepen into true affection—even love. What if that boy—" he drew a deep breath, "—was Edward Elric?"

A few minutes later he snuggled Izumi into the crib beside Gigi, tucking her in with a kiss before returning to her mother, who had not yet spoken until he wrapped his long body around her, tucking her head under his chin.

"I had the biggest crush on him when I was a little girl."

"I'm not surprised. He is quite lovable, your uncle, in spite of all he says to the contrary. Do you feel ashamed of that?"

She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. "Embarrassed, maybe."

"Crushes are normal, yes. Young Edwin will listen to his Aunt Teddy when he is giving the finger to the rest of the world.."

"_Edwin???_ A crush on me??"

Havoc chuckled. "A tiny one. And I know it will resolve itself naturally and he will someday remember only how kind and supportive you were. And you and Edo—of all save your father, you love him best of the family, non?"

"Yes."

"And that is why I know you will not walk from him, any more than Taisa will walk from us. Love is stronger," he whispered softly in her ear, "than all of human stupidity…."

"DR. EDWARD ELRIC—THE MAN BEHIND THE 'GHOST RAPE' RUMORS"—_New York Post_

He was charming—oh, they had to give him points for that. Elegant and charming and—

"He's playing us," _The Advocate_'s assistant photographer muttered between sips of mocha java. "He's good."

"Hollywood type. His brother's on speed dial to half the shoppers on Rodeo Drive. Handled that palimony suit for Colt Commando and his little twinkie."

"The one that played Skimbleshanks in the _Cats_ revival? Pissy little piece of work, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but it sure put that planner of theirs on the map—say, whatever happened to that guy? Paul Whathisface, the steward from American Airlines?"

"Youngblood. Yeah, he's hooked up with this faboo resort –the one that old fraud McDonald died at, where that Jamaican lady is selling the frog smoothies—the ones that make your pee-pee hard as acrylic nails."

"Too awful, but she's divine, that Paninya. And now she's got this adorable little chapel in the rainforest where you can tie the knot _legally_. And Youngblood's set up offices on the island. I tell you, darling, this is the wave of the future."

Dermott consulted his digital light meter. "Remind me, ducks, what the hell we are doing on this dreary little speed bump on the road to civilization."

"Local color. Besides, there's some genuine queer history here. You heard about the scandal back in the 70's, back when this Elric got booted out of Berkeley for nailing this cute little piece of sushi named Mustang? Seems they've been together ever since, but it was La Mustang that told the tourists that Ms. Elric was getting topped in his sleep by some dead pirate or whatever.. We're to get the facts—if we can. Otherwise, it's just a bit of colorful kink, y'know?"

"Well, pet, they aren't coming out—literally or metaphorically."

Mayland Alexander Hughes knew how to _work_ it. He grinned. A subtle toss of his head, one dark forelock tumbling into his brilliant green eyes. And he _owned_ that Versace suit. "Seriously," he joked with the mob of reporters that had bubbled up out of nowhere and swarmed across Teddy's lawn like a colony of fire ants whose mound had been prodded with an unwary bare foot, "if everybody's erotic dreams were front page news, most of us would be…_overexposed_, so to speak. No, the simple truth is that a half dozen ghost chasers happened to get caught in the cross fires of a lover's spat, nothing more."

"If that's the case, where's Mr. Mustang?"

"Yeah! And where's Dr. Elric? Why won't he come out and talk to us?"

Hughes grin became a fraction tighter. "Mr. Mustang has business to attend to. As for the professor, he finds this whole mess disruptive to the routine of his family and respectfully requests everyone to go home ."

"Right—but what was he _doing_ there?"

"Research for another fantasy novel." Ohhh, how the green eyes twinkled! "He's authored a very popular novel about alchemy published in Japan, you know. _Fullmetal Alchemist_ was his way of creating a fantasy story woven around his boyhood in war-torn Europe. Who knows what stories he may be inspired to write about Charleston? Pirates are certainly en vogue this year. Now then," he gestured good naturedly towards the gate," I have a new born daughter in the house who is getting cranky from all the noise out here and a five year old who wishes she could ride her tricycle in the garden, only she can't come out until you all go home. Gracia? Honey? Maybe they'd like to take some pictures of the girls?"

"EXCLUSIVE! PHOTOS OF SECRET ELRIC FAMILY ENCLAVE ON SULLIVAN'S ISLAND"—_People_

"Well, _damn_." Ed shook his head and closed the upstairs window.

"Told you it would work. Now get your ass back here. I'm not done yellin' at you yet."

"Yes ma'am."

"SPECTRAL ASSAULT—FACT OR GAY FANTASY?"—_Bill O'Reilly_

The yard was swarming with parasites with cell phones and telephoto lenses. Taisa was gone. His great grandson had been caught throwing rocks at a priest with the cryptic name "Cornello Hunter", after said priest appeared out of the shadows in a different form—not a priest at all—grabbed him, bit his shoulder and purred, "Shall I kill you first, then fuck you? Or fuck you first, then kill you? You're a pretty boy, so you're going to be fucked…and you look like _him_, so you're going to die. I'll let you choose which way you want it." Edwin had kneed his assailant in the crotch and run like hell, right up until the cops caught him. God bless Jeanne-Marie for getting the child out of danger. Al and Win-Sara were looking after him—Fritz had not returned in three days, nor had he called. Presumably he was after Christine again, hoping to persuade her to return home. Teddy was worried sick about Taisa, and she and Hughes were already trying to track him down, Remy and Gracia helping every way they could.

The little ones—Elysia, Gigi and Izumi—responded to the tension in the air. Elysia became sulky and whined a lot. Gigi got colicky and Izumi seemed to be muttering to herself as if she hated being stuck in an infant's body when she wanted to rush in and _do_ something.

…and then, there was _Edward_. "I love my brother," he said aloud. "My brother gave everything—even his life—to get me my body back."

"My brother is the most unselfish person in the world."

"There was nothing he didn't do to try to come home to me."

"He's been there for me since the day I was born."

"I love my brother."

"I would die for Ed."

As he jogged along the beach, long hair shoved under a hat, sunglasses on, looking as anonymous as a man of his fine looks could on a sunny beach in the late afternoon, he repeated those statements as a litany against the creeping cold inside him.

"_Meine Liebe_."

_My face, almost. My body, though slimmer, not so strong. Not my hair or eyes. And you wanted him. You…touched. It was like you and the Colonel—like you and Taisa. Only he wasn't like Mustang. He was like **me**. _

All those years they shared the same room, sometimes even the same bed. Sometimes he'd wake and find Ed curled up against him like a cat—that is, when he wasn't hogging the middle of the bed _and_ all the covers. Did he….?

No. _No._ Ni-isan wasn't like that. Not once, _ever_, had Ed ever…tried something. _Anything._ However…there were nights when Ed lingered in the bathroom, emerging flushed and drowsy, maybe a little sweaty. He understood. He'd taken plenty of "long showers" himself, once he began maturing. They never talked about sex or self-gratification. Maybe if they had…would…he…?

"No," he decided, jamming his hands firmly in his pockets. "I love my brother. I love my brother, and this is not going to make a difference."

Which didn't explain why he hadn't lingered in a room alone with his brother in three days…

"YOU HEARD ABOUT THAT ELRIC GUY—THE ONE IN ALL THE PAPERS? THE CHARLESTON POLICE SAY HE'S A LOUSY DRIVER. YEAH. HE'S ALWAYS RUNNING INTO _DEAD ENDS—BWAAAHAAAHAAAA!"_

---COMEDY CENTRAL

Took them nearly a week to find him.

Only reason he was staying away was to avoid the press, he told himself. Soon as they left he'd head back, if only to get the rest of his clothes, hand in his resignation from the Elric Foundation, drop off the keys and kiss Izumi goodbye.

Scratch that. If he kissed Izumi, he'd never leave.

The weather was beautiful. He was not in any charging hurry. No sense just diving on a plane back to Tokyo—and besides, he'd have to go house hunting once he got there, so…

…so he sat in his suite at the airport hotel, perusing the online reservation sites—just comparing prices, you know. Maybe Fiji has better accommodations than New Zealand…or Greece—yes, that would be lovely around Easter…couldn't quite make up his mind. He was registered as Miyazaki Taisa from Koukura, Japan. A research chemist with a PhD and an expense account…and…

…and a goddamned motherfucking broken _heart_.

An attractive woman at the bar had been very forward, inviting him to her room with coos and fluttering lashes and implications of intense gratification. He almost fucked her, just for spite, but in the merciless light of the hallway her wide rouged mouth took on a cavernous look, like a greedy maw, ready to eat his cock, spit and then dive for his wallet. When she opened the door he kept right on walking until he reached the stairs, which he bounded up, two at a time, until he was safe in his suite again.

He almost called Teddy. _She's…an Elric._

He almost called Hughes. _He works for the Elrics_.

He almost called Havoc. _He's fucking an Elric_.

Christ, wasn't there _anybody_ in his life that wasn't tied to that goddamn family?

"Falman here."

"Hey. It's Mustang."

"Oh—hey! God, that's some circus going on. You holding up all right?"

"I'm fine—and I'm out of it. For good."

There was a long silence. "Sounds like you need a drink."

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Where?"

Pause. "The Falls. Here at the Embassy, over by the Airport."

They ended up in his suite with a bottle of sake and some fabulous tuna sashimi from Hiro's that Falman had picked up on the way in. They spoke about divorce—about how endings can turn even the sweetest of partners into total assholes. "My advise to you, my friend," Vito nodded sagely, "is go back and fight him. Punch him out, yell at him, whatever. If this is really the end, you'll need to get this off your chest or it will wreck any relationship you'll have in the future. And if it's not the end," he smiled a little into his sake cup, "you'll get it out of your system, get it off your chest…and probably have the best make-up sex of your life."

They met a few times that week, playing racquetball at Vito's club, chess at the hotel, an amazing lasagna Falman had learned from his second wife. Each time his new friend would say, 'let me see your knuckles….hmmm…haven't punched him out yet, have you?"

"Oh, fuck off," Mustang would mutter, with less and less heat. "When are you going to get off my case?"

"Soon as you get this over with."

"Why do you give a shit?"

Falman clapped him on the shoulder. "Damned if I know, but I hate to see a friend looking so miserable. Look, I know it's been crazy—and god knows that family's been dragged all over the media lately. But you miss _them_—especially Hughes and Teddy and Remy—even if you're still pissed off at Ed. And I know you miss the baby—what's her name again?"

"Izumi." Soft, tiny fingers curling around his thumb, the way she always hushed when he held her…he was the first one she smiled for_—even before she smiled at Teddy, she smiled at me. Ed was so smug…damn him…_

"I'm not saying you have to stay…but when the heat blows over, go down and call him out and settle it."

"Well….we'll see…"

He opened the door for Room Service and she _pounced _on him. "You _shit_!" she snarled, elbowing him in the gut before shoving him flat on his back on the sofa, jumping on him and pinning him with her hands and knees. "_Get up and I'll fuckin' kill you_."

A wide grin over her shoulder. "She means it, Cowboy."

Another smile and a twinkle of merry blue eyes. "_C'est vrai, mon frére._ Best to let the lady have her say." Havoc nodded to his accomplice. "Meanwhile, this splendid breakfast will undoubtedly be stone cold by the time she's done with him."

"Mmmm. Western omelet. Looks delicious. Hey, Cowboy—mind if we eat this? We're starving. We'll get you breakfast—" a stream of venomous profanity made him reconsider, "---er, _lunch_, when you and Teddy have finished your little…_chat_."

CHRISTMAS PLAY NARRATOR: "AND EBENEEZER SCROOGE HAD NO FURTHER INTERCOURSE WITH SPIRITS"

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST: "NO—BUT EDWARD ELRIC SURE DID!"

----_NBC'S SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE_

RISEMBOOL SOUTH, SULLIVAN'S ISLAND, OUTSIDE OF CHARLESTON

"Tell you what, Elysia—if Mom says it's all right, you can help me make some cookies for dessert. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Yah!"

In theory, it was a good way to distract the child, not to mention herself. If she sat around dwelling on the explosion that had rocked her family and split it to pieces she'd either start sobbing or start yelling at Uncle Edward, neither of which would mend the breach any faster. Hughes, goddess love him, must have been part blood hound, part paparazzi. "I think I know where Mustang's holed up. Lemme check it out, then you and me and Remy can flush him out and drag his sorry ass back here."

"Oh—kaaaay…..then what?"

"Welllll….I don't know….maybe we could lock 'em in the bedroom together…play 'em some Barry White cd's…candle light…satin sheets….what do you think?"

"I think if you locked them in the bedroom Edo would chew his way through the window screen, climb down the rose trellis and shove a cold metal foot up your rectum."

Hughes believed her. "Okay, so we go work on the Cowboy and see if you can talk some sense into him."

Hughes had borrowed the keys to Arlo, Teddy's fail-safe VW Microbus, and headed out towards the north side. In the meantime, she'd occupy herself playing Iron Chef with Elysia. "So," she inquired brightly, "you want raisins, pecans, cinnamon, chocolate chips, oatmeal AND peanut butter in the dough? Gonna be a little on the chunky side, isn't it?"

Gracia, breast feeding Gigi at the table, smiled over at her oldest child. "And we'll end up a little chunky if we eat too many of them when they're done. You can have one as soon as they're cool and one for dessert."

Teddy tasted the dough critically. "Hmmm….needs a shot of vanilla." She rummaged through her pantry for the bottle of Madagascar vanilla bourbon that she used for everyday baking, saving her fine Mexican vanilla for special desserts and ice cream. Someone—probably Ai-san—hadn't gotten the cap on securely, so that when she grabbed the little bottle it spilled all over her hands. Elysia fretted, but Teddy laughed it off. "Not to worry, sweetie—it smells so nice I'll just rub it into my hands like perfume." She briskly rubbed her hands and wrists together, then held them out to the child. "Mmmm…isn't that nice?"

"You smell yummy! Can I have some, too?"

Teddy held her wrists up to her face and inhaled deeply. From across the kitchen Gracia could see the color drain out of her friend's face—and then heat dramatically with a scarlet flush. "Teddy, what---"

"_Where's Remy?_" Teddy demanded abruptly.

Gracia was beginning to feel alarmed. "Out on the beach. I think he and Edwin are playing touch football."

"_Get him. Hurry!" _ she managed to blurt our before her knees gave way.

_A week before her surgery Edo had called her from San Francisco. "I'm moving in with Alphonse," he told her quietly. "Win-Sara and I are going to take care of him for awhile. Between the two of us I know we can pull your dad through. I'm not saying he's actively suicidal, but I've never seen him so listless and depressed. Your mother's death hit him hard, Kiddo."_

"_Hit me hard too." She felt selfish. Didn't Edo know what she was up against? Right now was when she needed her mother and sister the most. Even if everything went well and they got all of the tumor, she still had chemo to get through. God, she was so fucking sick of putting on her brave face, but it seemed wrong to demand that Win and Edo come all the way to the east coast to be with her when her father was in such a fragile state of mind._

"_I know, Kiddo. And that's why I called. Roy and I have talked this over. I'm staying here, and he's moving in with you. He'll be there tomorrow."_

"_Edo, you can't do that!" she argued. "Roy doesn't—"_

_A familiar voice cut in. "—Roy most assuredly does, so don't argue. And don't worry about picking me up. I'll rent a car. I need to pick up a new rat cage at the pet store on the way in. You don't mind if Tesla comes with me?"_

"_Ah—of course not," she stuttered. "I'll get the guest room set up for you."_

"_Don't insult me," he snorted. "You've got a queen sized bed."_

"_Just make sure you've got enough blankets," Ed jibed. "He'll steal 'em right off you in the middle of the night and you'll freeze your ass off, selfish prick."_

"_Fuck you, Edward!"_

_There was an interval of stunned silence on Teddy's side of the phone. "You need me. And I need to be there for you. And no, you're not being selfish, so stop thinking that shit right now. You're not going to argue with me, are you?"_

"_No."_

"_Good. And on the way in I'll get us some Chinese, so don't worry about dinner. Mongolian beef, no mushrooms, right? You want pot stickers?" He was laughing softly now. "What was the old rule? 'Two for me, two for you—and two for that asshole, Hughes.' We'll just have to eat his share for him."_

_Which they did. The meal was brittle, joyless and seasoned with false smiles and stilted conversation. Teddy only picked at her supper before laying it aside and excusing herself. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm gonna take a shower."_

_That was where he found her, ten minutes later. She was huddled against the wall, hands pressed to her mouth, trying to choke off the sound of her sobbing. In spite of the steaming water she was shivering and unnaturally pale. _

_She didn't hear him slip behind the curtain, didn't know he was there until his arms slid tightly around her. She resisted, rigid with grief, but he refused to let her pull away, pressing her head gently against his chest, making soft, soothing sounds. "Teddy," he whispered in her ear, "don't you ever—EVER—tried to hide your pain from me again, do you hear me? You just hold onto me—I'm not going to let you fall. We'll get through this shit, but you're going to have to let me in, understand?"_

_Moments later she was down on her knees, vomiting up what seemed like everything she'd eaten since the day she was born. He knelt down beside her, letting her lean against him, supporting her, holding her head. When she was empty at last, he helped her rinse her mouth. He rubbed her briskly with a warm towel, wrapped her up in her robe and carried her to the bed. He slipped under the covers beside her and held her close, his thumb jabbing the remote control for her VCR. "I put on 'Mothra'."_

_She didn't even open her eyes. "I don't own a copy of 'Mothra'."_

_He pressed his lips against her feverish forehead. "You do now. And all the Godzilla movies—and I had to get 'Gamera'. I know you always loved your 'flying turtle movies'. Now then, the scene is Post Atomic Age Tokyo…"_

_She woke to the savory aroma of chicken broth with white miso and silken tofu. They shared a bowl plus a few steamed dumplings. After he cleared away the dishes, he suggested she go soak in a warm tub. "I'll give you a massage when you get out."_

_Warm lotion, fragrant with vanilla, trickled over her the backs of her shoulders. He straddled her hips, careful to keep his weight on his legs, bending down to work long tanned fingers into her flesh, searching out the tightness, coaxing her aching muscles to relax._

_After a time, to her very great surprise, the fingers were replaced by his lips._

_He silenced her protests with one simple question: "Don't you want me?"_

_She did, and it seemed like each time they embraced in those days before the surgery another layer of deep woven fear and grief began to unravel. Talk and argument only intensified her anxiety. The silent language of skin against skin, of shared breath and ecstasy, seemed more eloquent than any words of comfort he could have given her._

_By the time Hughes arrived on Thursday she was laughing once more as they pulled him down under the covers to join them…_

"Man…I _have_ to ask ya…does it bother you that she remembers?"

Havoc looked surprised that Hughes even had to ask. "He made her happy years before we met, just as you did. You were both good lovers to her and better friends. Do you think I need to beat the shit out of the pair of you, for all the good you've done her? Would it make you feel any better? Or do you think Gracie-_cher_ should yank out all of _ma petite's_ hair because she shared your bed before you found your wife?"

"So how is she dealing with it?"

"_Moi_? I think she is relieved. She has the whole of her memory now. And she is quite certain that this happened because of her conversation with the Colonel—he felt it was quite unfair that Teddy suffered from unrequited love for Taisa for so long. He seemed to think if they fulfilled that longing that everything would settle down and Taisa would hold his proper place within her life—and it appears he was right." Remy bit down into another of Elysia's cookies, careful to school his expression. A bit too sweet for his taste, but he was damned if he was going to admit that to his friend, proud as Hughes was of his child. "And you have found him, _non_? Where has he been hiding himself?"

"Embassy Suites at the airport. Taisa's got a better friend than he knows in Falman. You know that cop who questioned Edwin the other night? What was his name…Breda, that's it. Anyway, he and Falman are old friends. Breda swung by to make sure nobody's bothered Edwin and Falman was with him. We got to talking and he told me that ol' Roy Rogers is one miserable son of a bitch, and he allowed as how it might not be a bad idea of the three of us went up to pay the Cowboy a visit and see if we can rope that Mustang and get him back in his home corral."

"Uncle? Uh…you okay?"

Edwin cautiously approached the small figure perched on the rocks of the jetty, well away down the beach from the thinned out crowd of gawking spectators that hung around the yard of the house on I'on Avenue. The heavy blond hair was shoved up under Aunt Teddy's brown fedora and long sleeves concealed his gloved hands. Beard shaved off, he looked so young it made Edwin uneasy. _There's a lot of evil shit out there, son_, Jeanne Marie had told him that night on the beach. _This ain't no fantasy game. This ain't no Star Wars. Non! There is evil—and there's folks who fight on the angel's side and pay a damned high price for it. Two of the strongest I have ever met are your Papa Alphonse and Oncle Edouard. Believe me, you do not want to know how N'onc' Edo lost his arm and his leg. An' your Auntie Tee—she damn near as good. Dey give the whole of dere lives for dis, yeah. An' me and Remy, we fight de same damn battles but on a different playin' field. Dey wear dem red coats as sign of a pledge they made._

_You mean there really is such a thing as magic and alchemy?_

_Oui, an' you damn well better choose which side you gonna stand on, De days o' you bein' an' ignorant little mushroom, growin' in de dark an' bein' fed bullshit—is over, cher. You ain't no goddamned Harry Potter, either. You ain't some fuckin' 'chosen one'. If you choose to become a Red Coat, you be a soldier. Ain't no glory, an' it could get you killed. Only thing you get out o' it is knowin' that when you look down at them babies in the crib, you know that you was the guard dog what chased away the robbers an' bit them in the ass. Yo' Aunt Tee wasn't much more older'n you when she took the Red Coat. She already been half kilt for it—but if you was to ask her to swear on the tits o' Isis if she regret it, she tell you 'non'. Dat's why Taisa an' me an' Remy study wit her and the old men—we love dis worl' and we want to do what we can, d'accord?_

_So—why doesn't everybody in the family know about this?_

_Shit, boy—took Taisa thirty years to believe Edouard. He had to see shit happen wid his own eyes. Now he as dedicated as de rest o' them. Hughes an' Gracia done seed it too, an' that Brosh feller. An' Auntie Win an' your grandpere Alfons—dey ain't in de fight but dey believe now. Dey believe 'cause of somethin' that happened to Aunt Tee, somethin' they can't explain away—but she gonna be the one to tell you 'bout that someday. So…I wan' you to think on dis, chile. Think hard. Den you go talk to ol' Edouard an' see what he say…._

"She told you?" He didn't turn around.

"Yeah. Sorta."

"It was Teddy's place to tell you. She wanted to wait until you were a little older, a couple more years. Jeanne-Marie had no right."

"She said it was because of the man on the beach, the one who said he'd fuck me and kill me. Because he changed his shape."

"_Hunter Cornello_. Christ, what a farce." Edward turned weary eyes to his great-grand nephew and sighed. "His real name was Wilhelm. He calls himself Envy. He's my half brother—and he's not human. Neither was that fat fool with him—and for god's sake don't let them get their hands on you."

"Yeah. That's what Mrs. Havoc said. She said I wasn't Harry Potter and didn't know how to protect myself."

"Yeah. Sit," he gestured for Edwin to join him on the rocks. "Somebody opened up a can of whoop-ass. I'm just tryin' to get it back in the can. And before you ask, yeah—the ghost was real and no, it wasn't fucking me. That's what Taisa thought and he was wrong. That ghost was inside my brain and body, trying to find a way to tell me how a monster like Envy got loose in this world again. My _husband_," he sighed heavily, "is one pissy motherfucker sometimes."

"That ghost---was he…?"

"My lover? Once. Long ago, when I was so far from home and so homesick I thought I'd die from it. I suppose she told you that Alphonse and I weren't born in this place, right?" The boy nodded. "When we get back, I'll let you look at my arm and my leg. You'll see the technology is light years beyond what they have on this side of the Gateway. That world—that country. Amestris. Risembool. Our home is not another planet—it's a world that mirrors this one in a lot of ways. Your Aunt Teddy's seen it, has been there. Taisa's seen _into_ it through a portal, and so have Mays, Gracia and Denny. There are people born here who look a lot like people in Amestris. When I last saw my brother, he was in the body of a ten year old boy. Alfons Heiderich was almost twenty. We…we didn't plan on loving one another…"

"But it happened, right?"

"Yes. I had loved Mustang on the other side—and I thought he'd been killed. I was so alone…Alfons was the kindest man—I think I would have thrown myself in the river and died of grief if he…if we…"

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally Edwin spoke aloud. "So he came to warn you, this Heiderich? And Uncle Taisa thought he was there to…I guess…take you away or something? That's messed up. Where is he now?"

Edward buried his face into his hands. "God, I wish I knew."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Edward studied the boy carefully, remembering his homophobic outburst at Thanksgiving. Maybe Jeanne-Marie was right—maybe the kid _could_ deal with it. Hell, he'd been made a State Alchemist at an even younger age. Maybe the situation wasn't quite so shitty as it first appeared.

"Yeah." He smiled suddenly for the first time in days. "After supper, you and me and Alphonse and Teddy are going up to the office for a private talk. You bring your questions, we'll bring the ice cream and coffee. Deal?"

"Deal, sir." _And I'm bringing my iPod to record this—just in case they try to deny it later…._

BERKELEY, 1975

"Well…shit. No Godzilla tonight." The power snapped off at noon on the day before Thanksgiving, 1975. "You still got that Coleman lantern, Teddy?"

"Yeah. Thank god we had enough for the rent. But it's too chilly in here. We need to get some wood. Last thing we need is for Taisa to land right back in the hospital. And he's gonna be pissed that the phone and power have both been cut off. You know he's gonna think it's his fault."

It wasn't—but his health had been a priority. What started as a chill became a cough, then escalated into bronchitis. None of the over-the-counter crap had loosened the muck in his chest, so Teddy and Mays dug into their meager savings to get their roomie into the doctor's office—and the doctor had promptly slapped his ass into the hospital for three days. He was much improved but if he wasn't kept warm he could relapse—and unfortunately they couldn't afford it.

Nobody wanted to call home, and contacting Mrs. Miyazaki was out of the question—she'd haul her son back to Tokyo, and that was the last thing any of them wanted. Teddy and Mays had resorted to busking on the street corners in the evening with their guitars, which earned them enough to keep the roof over their heads—all the while trying to conceal from Mustang how dire their financial situation was.

"Ohhhkay," Teddy sighed. "We've got no food to speak of. No phone. No power. We got about ten bucks between us. What the hell do we do now, Hughes?"

"What else? We throw a party."

Pretty soon there were handmade flyers all over the campus advertising The Beggar's Banquet: Being For The Benefit of Roy Mustang, a rent party to assist 'three starving geniuses who will remember you in their wills if you turn up and cough over a few bucks". The part that really got their attention was in the fine print at the bottom. "Black Tie Optional—Aw Hell—Clothing Optional. BYOB—and bring one for us, too. And if you want anything other than ramen and oatmeal, you might wanna bring a couple of cans of soup or a box of macaroni and cheese to share—we're #$%ing STARVING!" Hughes had become something of a celebrity on campus for his radio show, not to mention the infamous picture of him that landed on the campus paper with him stark naked, tied up on the lawn of a certain frat house with a fake marijuana joint shoved up his butt and "KAPPAS ARE PUSSIES" scribbled over his bare buttocks in English and Kanji. Obviously, Mayland Alexander Hughes knew how to **party**.

By seven o'clock, the house was already crowded. Somebody from the theatre department brought a bunch of garbage bags stuffed with old costumes and make-up that was purloined from the warehouse. While some people stripped to their underwear, the majority plundered the playhouse loot and painted their faces. Hughes marched around in Elizabethan tights, a codpiece and WWII leather bomber jacket. Teddy looked dashing in a Victorian men's frock coat and trousers, while the robes from "The Arabian Nights" turned a Eurasian chemistry student into a prince, complete with bejeweled turban and a bottle of Boones Farm Strawberry Hill that might possibly have contained a genie.

There was a ramen eating contest, a joint-rolling contest and a game of Naked Twister that left one of the linebackers from the football team sincerely confused about his gender preference. A visit from the police sent everybody fanning out into the street, trailing feather boas and nun's habits behind them.

At 1:00am, Teddy counted up the donations. "All right—we can get the power back on tomorrow, but the phone'll have to wait. And we've got enough canned soup and beans to hold us till our next paychecks, plus enough wine to give us a last buzz before bedtime."

The bottle was about halfway past the label when Hughes got to looking serious. Finally he drained his glass at a gulp and reached for his guitar. "Hey," he said softly. "I wanna sing ya'll something."

_You want to know how it will be  
Me and her or you and me  
You both sit there with your long hair flowing  
Your eyes alive, your minds are still growing  
Saying to me  
What can we do now that we  
Both love you, I love you too  
But I don't really see  
Why can't we go on as… three?_

Teddy and Mustang got very, very quiet. Mays was staring at them, singing to them. Teddy's cheeks flushed. Taisa fixed his eyes on the flicker of candlelight that illuminated the cheap wine in his glass.

_You are afraid, embarrassed too  
No one has ever said such a thing to you  
Your mother's ghost stands at your shoulder  
Got a face like ice just a little bit colder  
Saying to you  
Can not do that it breaks all the rules  
You learned in schools  
But I don't really see  
Why can't we go on as… three?_

Taisa glanced up, meeting Hughes' eyes. Did Teddy know of the night three weeks ago when he had finally given in, when he and her lover had taken that one irrevocable step beyond hand jobs and blow jobs and playful groping—when Hughes had laid him down on hearth rug and guided his thick cock deep into Taisa's body, making him shiver and sweat and wail with pleasure so intense he thought his heart might stop?

Teddy glanced up, meeting Hughes' eyes. Did Mays know of those soft, curious kisses she'd shared with Mustang? He'd admitted he'd never kissed a girl before, and she'd leaned in…let her mouth brush tenderly against his…no hurry…nothing to fear. She made it clear she expected nothing of him—that she only wanted to give him pleasure. Recently the kisses had deepened and she felt his body responding. She wanted to sink to her knees, to take him into her mouth, not because she wanted to convert him or because she had anything to prove. He was beautiful. She cared deeply for him. She knew she wanted it—but unless he was just as willing she wouldn't dare jeopardize their friendship over sex.

_You know we love each other-- it's plain to see  
There's just one answer comes to me  
Sister lover, some of you must know about water brothers  
And in time maybe others  
So you see… what we can do  
If we try something new, that is if you're crazy too  
And I don't really see why can't we go on as ... three?_

_I love you_, Hughes told him.

_I love you_, Hughes told Teddy.

"…and I know," he added so softly, "that you love each other—maybe not in the same way…but it's there. I can feel it. And so," his voice was barely above a whisper now, "in my heart...there's no choice between you."

And then he opened his arms wide enough to embrace them both.

It could have been awkward. It _should_ have been, but it wasn't. Somehow the three of them found their own rhythm. Mays felt a stinging behind his eyes, suspiciously like tears. _To live and love in a world where we don't have to lose, where every choice is good for each of us…that's not reality. But maybe…just maybe we can find it together, here, for a while. God, _he thought, drawing back, smiling a little as he watched them kiss each other, guiding Taisa's fingers just..._so_…watching Teddy reaching for him, watching them lie down together, her face so full of welcome, with utter acceptance of all that Taisa was. "God," he whispered as he watched them, one hand caressing Taisa's back, one hand stroking his own hardness, "God…you two…you're so beautiful together…"

And then…there were _three_…and any pleasures Mays had known before in the many beds he dallied in paled in comparison with this joining. He could hold them both—his arms and his heart were large enough. It was intoxicating. They had their own scent…their own delicious taste, especially when he buried his face between her thighs after Taisa had come inside her or when Mustang's agile tongue swirled and sucked at them both as she rode Hughes. What ever shy reluctance they might have had evaporated as they fell into bed in an exhausted tangle of arms and legs, trading drowsy kisses until he finally nestled them down, half draped across his chest. "I love you—and you," he murmured contentedly.

"I don't care if you did plan this," Mustang chuckled. "It worked. Love you, too."

"Ditto, gentlemen. G'night!"

NOW—ROOM 323, AIRPORT EMBASSY SUITES

_From the Alchemic Journals of Taisa Roy Mustang—_

Sure. It's easy as hell to walk away from the Elrics. Trouble is, you have to leave your heart with them. What was it Khalil Gibran said—that passage Teddy had read at her wedding?

_But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,  
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,  
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears._

I remember Barb reading those words over them and Ed's fingers tightening around mine. I remember going to Coconut Joe's after they had driven off. It was a live music night and there was a reggae band playing that Alphonse liked a lot. They were playing this old Bob Marley song that Winry used to play all the time:

_Rise up this mornin',  
Smiled with the risin' sun,  
Three little birds  
Pitch by my doorstep  
Singin' sweet songs  
Of melodies pure and true,  
Sayin', "This is my message to you-ou-ou:"  
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!  
Every little thing gonna be all right…"_

Ed got out of his chair, held out his hand to me, right there in front of the band, God and two dozen drunken frat boys from the College of Charleston. I didn't hesitate. I stepped into his arms, smiled down at him and let him swing me around in a slow, romantic waltz up there on the roof, under the spring moon under the golden glow of the Corona signs.

_"Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!  
'Cause every little thing—gonna be all right.."_

The punches didn't start flying until I kissed him. I couldn't help myself—if you'd seen the way his eyes were glowing, how proud and happy he was to be dancing with me under the stars after seeing Teddy finally finding the love she deserved—hell, you'd have kissed him too. Somebody behind us muttered, "Jeeze, look at the _fairies_!"

"C'mere, Tinkerbell," he chuckled, grabbing the belt loops of my jeans and tugging me closer. "Damn, you look good."

"_Fuckin' fruits!"_

Ed ignored that crack and gave me a hot, evil grin. "Speaking of fruits…is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" A not so subtle thrust of the hips and I was hard as a rock.

"Damn—will you guys go get a room?" a third man complained. "You're doin' that in front of my girl friend."

Edo didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, and you've got your hand down the front of her shirt, groping her in public. We'll get a room if you will."

"Why, you sawed off little—"

_That_ did it. The only thing that kept Ed from ripping the kid about five fresh assholes was the intervention of a beefy guy with red hair who looked powerful enough to bite the neck off his bottle of TurboDog. "Free country, kid," he told them. "Don't wanna see, then don't look. Least he's got his hands above the waist."

"Who the fuck are you?" the kid demanded belligerently.

"Heywood Breda. _Officer_ Heywood Breda. So I'm tellin' you to play nice, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

Of course, as soon as the cop was gone the kids went after us. Wasn't much of a fight, really. Not when you compare it to the epic slugfest we had in Paris. A swift boot in the crotch with an automail knee behind it was all it took to drop the first punk. The one dumb enough to lunge at me got flipped over my shoulder, thanks to some clever moves I learned from Alphonse. "Need more?" I taunted.

Apparently they didn't, and Ed and I could have danced the rest of the night away. Instead we headed out for a secluded patch of dunes with a blanket, a bottle of champagne and some Watkins Apothecary Vanilla Shea Butter, which was a lot more fun than the Crisco Hughes and I used in college.

"I'd have killed him for you," Ed sighed afterwards. "But ditching bodies is such a bother."

Funny thing was—he meant it. This was a man who'd die for me, kill for me, even share his toothbrush with me—and if you had any idea how goddamn fussy Ed is, you'd know what a sacrifice that is.

I didn't want a fight on an empty stomach, so I rang for room service.

I opened the door, ready for a western omelet. What I got was an elbow in the gut and one hundred and (edited) plus pounds of raving Elric, who knocked me down, pounced on me, cursed me until her face was blue and then burst into furious tears. "God damn you, Mustang! Who the fuck do you think you are, just waltzing out of our lives like that?"

And then the three of them were there, holding me close, and the tears I'd been warding off with alcohol came welling up as Teddy, Mays and, yes, even Remy told me they loved me, couldn't stand for me to leave and that if I wouldn't go quietly, they'd knock me out, stuff me in a duffle bag, toss me in the trunk of May's Bentley and drag my sorry ass back to Risembool South.

All right. I didn't make any promises about getting back with Ed…but I'll _try_. But so help me Buddha, if he says one goddamned word about Heiderich, or if he starts trying to bullshit me again about what went on in Munich…I'll pull on those gloves, snap my fingers and set his ass on fire…and if the gloves don't work, there's always the Aim n' Flame….

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Chapter 9

THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE

Early evenings were the most crowded since the story hit the blogosphere about the distinguished German-born scientist who came to check out the stories about the Gentleman Ghost and ended up getting caught masturbating in the haunted room by his lover, who then announced to the people outside that the scientist was having an uncomfortably close encounter with an incubus. In fact, it was now a stopping spot on the 9pm Ghost Walk of the Battery District. After the tour, a blonde couple joined the milling crowd in courtyard, both bearing cameras and bags from several market street tourist traps. The man wore a Jimmy Buffett t-shirt, while the woman's shapely figure was well defined by a skin tight baby-doll that proclaimed "Carolina Girls—Best In The World". Gobbets of Murano Glass sparkled from her many necklaces, and she cracked her gum enthusiastically as she surveyed the scene of the Ghost Rape. "Freddie! Ain't this exciting?" she gushed in an accent that could be slathered on a hot biscuit like honey from the farmer's market. "Lookit how old it is! I just love historic places, don't you?" She smiled broadly to the other curious ghost chasers.

Freddie, a rather tall, well built man in his middle years, puffed on an aromatic stogie, consulted his digital watch and shot a few more pictures. "Okay, Sara. We seen it. You 'bout ready to move on out?"

"Gimme another couple of minutes, darlin'. I just wanna—OHHHH! Awww, SHIT! Honey? I lost my contact!"

"Damn it," her companion grumbled. "'Scuse me, folks! Ya'll mind holdin' still a minute? Missus lost her contact lens." Tugging a small LED flashlight from the Bass Pro Shop out of his fanny pack, he carefully inched his way towards where Sara was down on her knees, her loot and shopping bags tossed to one side. They huddled together, for several moments. "Wait—honey, don't move! I think I see it…yeah. I got it! Where's your case?"

"In my bag. I'll just—"

"Woman, don't put that back in your eye! You don't know who might'a walked around here! Somebody with dogshit on their shoes, or who knows what else—"

"Freddie, damn it! I ain't that stupid! I got glasses in my bag. I'll just put the lens in the case. We get to a bathroom and I'll get the other one out."

The couple scrambled to their feet, gathered up their bags and hurried away. In all the fuss, nobody noticed that one slightly greenish looking cobblestone had been pried out of the walkway and replaced by a flat black river rock purchased an hour ago from Black Market Minerals. In fact, the price tag was still on the underside of the stone.

Back in the van, Dr. Winry Sara Elric-Jones, Professor Alfons Heiderich Elric, a researcher for the Elric Foundation named Denny Brosh and a Cajun faith healer named Jeanne-Marie Baptiste Havoc snapped on their seat belts as Gracia Hughes stamped on the accelerator and got them the hell back to Sullivan's Island as fast as the speed limit would allow.

"Careful, cher. Don't touch it. Don' know what might happen," Jeanne-Marie cautioned. "Denny, put that rock in yer pocket, d'accord? Now let's get this damn thing back to de house. An' let's stop off at Sticky Fingers on the way in." She snapped open her cell phone. "I'm getting' us some barbecue to snack on . Gonna be a long night…"

RISEMBOOL SOUTH

They'd offered him their bedroom, saying that they would gladly bunk down in the nursery with the kids. He refused. "I'll get a hotel room." "The fuck you will!" In the end he reluctantly agreed to move into Teddy's music room on the second floor of the tower. A small doorway on one side revealed a microscopic staircase that led up to the cupola, which Teddy had screened in and furnished with a ceiling fan, a battered rattan sofa and a rickety table where she and Remy and their guests would often play cards or board games into the wee hours of the morning. "You'll have all the privacy you need, not to mention the best view of the water." A rollaway bed was moved in, and her Marshall Stack amplifier moved to the storage shed so Mustang would have enough closet space.

Actually, it was perfect. She'd discretely moved his belongings in, filled vases with fresh flowers and greenery from their garden, even installed hangers on the door for his yukata and laid his geta sandals beside the bed. A pile of books by his favorite authors were stacked on the nightstand and Ai-san had even set up a coffeemaker and a small tin of biscotti in case he got hungry. The curved bay window let in the pleasant evening breeze and as he settled in that first night back the sounds of the distant surf and the whisper of palmetto fronds stirring on the wind should have lulled him quickly into a tranquil night's rest.

Instead he flipped through pages without absorbing a single word. He thumbed the remote control, then tossed it in the drawer with a sigh of disgust. Not even a retrospective on 1960's Japanese monster movies could hold his attention. He grinned a little when he saw the little DVD player and the Astro Boy boxed set—Mays remembered how much he'd loved that cartoon as a kid. And Remy had stopped in to chat a bit, telling him quietly that if he needed to talk about anything—at any time—that Remy would be there for him. Mustang had been an only child, and Remy's overtures of sincere friendship made Roy sometimes regard Teddy's husband as the brother he'd often wanted. Of course, to be technical, he had five known half-siblings scattered across Europe, but other than Uncle Simon, nobody in the Rogers clan had the slightest desire to see what the family bastard even looked like.

A letter—a postal letter, not an email—from Montreal had been laid on his pillow. Uncle Simon was attending a medical conference and hoped to see his nephew and attend his wedding on Ranamuerte. "After all, my dear boy, your mother was so fond of Edward. She would have stood with you on your wedding day. And as I heartily approve of this, it would be my pleasure and honor to stand with you in Hikari-san's place. I'm getting up in years now—travel is not quite so simple an affair as it once was. I am in Canada attending a medical conference with your nephew Nigel—that's your brother Jon's lad by his first marriage. Nigel's studied medicine at University College Dublin. A good fellow and my traveling companion. He has some keen interest in the medical applications of bufotoxins and frog venoms found in the rainforests, so he assured me he would be quite glad to provide escort to me to your nuptials---"

That's what was keeping him awake. What the hell do I tell him? He's flying halfway around the world to be with me, hauling around the kid of someone who wishes I'd drop off the planet and disappear…how do I tell him that I'm not sure if there's going to be a wedding or not? He's been so good to me…what the hell do I do now?

There was a soft tapping at the door. Remy, most likely. "Come in," he muttered, folding up the missive and tucking it into the nightstand.

"Hello." Oh. Not Havoc.

"What do you want?" He struggled to keep his expression neutral, his voice flat and free of emotion.

"I…" He edged his way in, closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat with obvious discomfort. "Are you…good? Anything you need?"

Roy didn't look up. "Fine. Thank you."

He approached the bed slowly, gazing down at the man who had occupied the center of his heart, in one incarnation or another, for over eight decades. His expression was wistful and terribly lonely. He'd shaved off his beard. Roy had always hated that needful camouflage that helped conceal how youthful he truly appeared. His hair was loose, just like it had been thirty years ago when he'd come to Roy at the tiny house off campus in Berkeley, four days after they'd been arrested together on their first date. Same expression of yearning and regret. He opened the door into the hall, fetching what appeared to be a large cockatiel cage, which he placed on the window seat.

"What's that for?"

"For him." Edward dug carefully into his breast pocket and then laid a tiny creature on Roy's chest. A baby rat, the color of pale cinnamon mixed with cream, sniffed curiously for a moment at Roy's hand before it fell to licking him enthusiastically. "I didn't want you to be alone. His name is Galileo. He's a silver fawn. The breeder said he was about five weeks old." He smiled shyly and nodded towards the cage. "I didn't want you to be lonely. I know you miss Einstein."

Mustang's fingers stretched out to caress the tiny creature. "Thank you."

Silence. Ed reached into his pocket again, bringing out another scant handful of wriggling fur. This one was glossy black. "Teddy says male rats need companionship so they don't grieve. This one is Stephen Hawking." The blond rat and the black rat sniffed each other for a moment before Galileo turned his attention to his friend, busily grooming Hawking's neck and shoulders. "Want me to put them in the cage?" I've got plenty of food for them and water and some chew toys—oh, and I rigged a hammock for them."

"They're…great. Thank you. I'll…get acquainted with them. I'll put them up later."

"Oh. Okay." For a moment he watched the tiny creatures playfully nip and chase each other up and down Roy's chest. He knelt down, took Mustang's hand and pressed it firmly above his heart. "I know you don't want to talk now—"

"You're right. I don't."

"I…just wanted to tell you…I'm glad you're back. And I am so goddamned sorry—god, Roy, you don't—"

"Goodnight, Edward." Ed bowed his head and buried his face in the palm of Mustang's hand, blindly moving his face against the long elegant fingers, now glistening with traces of tears. He pressed one kiss into the palm, rose abruptly and left. Before he closed the door, he whispered softly, "Ashiteru, Taisa".

Gently scooping up the baby rats, Mustang settled them into the new cage. He showered, had a glass of soy milk and one of Elycia's cookies to keep his blood sugar stable during the night, then crawled wearily back into bed again.

Ashiteru. I love you, Taisa. His hand slid down his belly, stroking the hardness that had risen to that whispered endearment. "Fullmetal," he answered the lonely man behind closed doors downstairs in the guest room. His eyes slid tightly shut as memories rose, unsummoned and unwanted…

_Our love was barely three hours old, but in the flickering glow of a dozen candles all I could see was you… _

Holding you close, undisturbed before a fire,  
The pressure in my chest when you breathe in my ear;  
_We both knew this would happen when you first appeared…_

_That phrase, 'lost in your eyes'. So trite. So pointless and idiotic until the moment it happens in truth. Your small slim body, draped across my chest, your metal limbs seemed so strange at first. You were oh so shy about letting me see your scars, so happy when I traced and kissed each one. I opened the whole of my heart to you and you to me in those hours. _

…Letting myself wander through the world inside your eyes  
_You know I'd like to stay here until every tear runs dry…_

_I nearly asked you what that odd smell was that clung to you until I vaguely recognized it as sewing machine oil. Of course. To keep your joints supple._

_ In time I would never smell machine oil without remembering that night, how silence wrapped us in its arms and all I needed was the gentle rise and fall of your chest against mine, the sound of rain and the voices of Graham Nash and David Crosby weaving together from the stereo down the hall…_

Wrapped around each other in the peeping sun,  
Beams of sunshine light the stage,  
the red light's on.  
I never want to finish what I've just begun with you…

Biting down hard into his pillow, his breath ragged and urgent, he held on to those memories as tightly as he held onto himself. _Berkeley…London…that night in Singapore when we rented the houseboat…the night Izumi was born in Tokyo…GOD…ohhh God….PARIS…_

_KerBLAAAMMM._

A size nine Tony Lama cowgirl boot kicked in his bedroom door.

Jeanne-Marie Havoc stared down into his flushed, sweaty face and grinned. Roy was mortified. The part of his anatomy that had been screaming for attention since he'd licked Ed's tears from his fingers was now curling up and desperately seeking a way to escape the old woman's sharp eye'd appraisal.

"Welllllll," she chuckled. "Don' look like it needs much more polishin' before it shines, boy." Her eyes sparkled with playful malice. "It be mighty pretty, but play with it later, yes? We got bidness. Get dressed. We see you in the library." She stomped to the door, paused and turned around. "An' wash yo' hands while you at it."

The Regulator clock in the kitchen chimed ten times before they locked the door to the library. Ed had gone to bed, possibly with a glass of brandy. Gracia and Ai-san were upstairs with the little ones. Edwin was surfing the web on his laptop in the den. His father, Fritz, had called earlier from Atlanta. He would not be back until Monday. In the library Teddy, Mays, Win-Sara and her brother Al, Remy and Jeanne-Marie circled around the table. Mustang was seated at its head, looking damned uncomfortable. Before him was a plate of liebkuchen biscuits and a cup of hot coffee. There was also the mouth watering smell of pulled pork barbecue and short ribs—that was for later. "This works right, we gon' need some sustenance when it be done, non? So leave the food be for now." Jeanne-Marie told them.

Denny Brosh had already set up his equipment. Digital camcorder. Digital recorder and old fashioned tape deck. He shoved the window up; it was getting stuffy. "I'm ready when you are," he said, nodding to Win-Sara.

The fragment of the Portal Stone was wrapped in a paper napkin from Wild Wing Café so it wouldn't touch her skin. It wasn't enough. The damned thing was already glowing green, just as it probably had when she stepped over it in the courtyard, triggering this stone and the fragment in the foundation in front of the toilet in Room 10. Mustang eyed it warily. "What do I do?"

"Nothin'. Teddy, you and Remy—you do the callin'. He knows you already."

Teddy paled a little, then nodded. Taking Remy's hand tightly in her own, she closed her eyes and began to speak. _"Alfons? Herr Heiderich? Es ist mich -- Tricia. Die Nichte von Edward. Können Sie mich hören? Werden Sie zu mir kommen? Ich brauche Ihre Hilfe."_

The stone burned. A shimmering form appeared at the head of the table. _„Ah! Tricia -- klein Ein. Sie sind wieder gekommen. Es ist gut, Sie zu sehen. Wo ist Edward? Ist er böse mit mir"?_

"Alfons—let us speak in English, please?" she requested.

The spirit beamed. _„Auf Englisch?Ja._ Mine Englitsch is _sehr gut_" He glanced around curiously. "This place I do not know. But I know you. I know Herr Havoc, your fine husband." He turned his face to meet Mustang's. „Herr Mustang. Herr Taisa Roy Mustang _von Japan. Ich kenne Sie._ I know you. I know you the whole of your life. And I am sorry--- So _erbärmlich_—that I have caused you such pain. It is my fault altogether—"

"Shut up!" Roy snapped. "Save it for someone who gives a damn."

The ghost's expression was sympathetic. "Ah, but you care. You care. It was I who intruded---I who trespassed, when dear Edward told me not to. So sweet—so good to be close to him after all these years. _Mehr als könnte ich stehen_—more that I could stand. You will not forgive, I know."

Mustang's face was impassive. "Forget it. What is it you want?"

Anxiously the spirit looked from Teddy to Remy. "I know not how else to do this thing, but as I did with you." Remy nodded, almost imperceptivity.

"Ja. This is the best way, then. I go in. I show our friend."

An hour ago he lay in the little room above them, miserably fisting his cock and replaying every precious moment of that first night they spent together at the tumbledown house in Berkeley thirty years ago. He'd been teetering on the edge of ecstasy when Jeanne-Marie had burst in on him. His body ached. It was unsatisfied and his groin felt like it had been booted.

The shade of Alfons Heiderich flickered and bled into him, right through the surface of his skin. His body spasmed, and if he had been aware of his surroundings he would have been embarrassed by the damp stain that darkened the front of his trousers. Heiderich was everywhere. Pulsing in is blood. Throbbing in his temples, in his sex, making his heart hammer wildly. Must show you, my friend. You have to know what made your Edward cry out and touch himself…

That…smell. Cinders and sandalwood and musk and fresh sweat. Bodies twining, a metal hand tearing at red satin sheets in a room that was too warm, too stuffy and altogether perfect. A blue uniform, a red coat, crumpled together on the floor. A tall black-haired man, head flung back as if abandoning himself to pleasure, gnawing his lip and gasping, stuttering out half-decipherable declarations of love to the lithe blond youth who rode his cock, swearing and sweating, flushed and perfect…then he was stepping off a plane, being hugged by a small brown haired young woman—but he didn't even see her. His heart lurched violently, knocked against his ribcage at the sight of a slim black haired young man in a clean sweatshirt, neat jeans and a half-smirk, half grin. _Oh god…ohhh god…it's you. Teddy found you. It's not over…ohh, Roy…love you…love you so goddamn much…_

They saw his body convulse. They heard the muffled sobbing as his hands covered his face. They saw the spirit of Alfons Heiderich appear again, not even a second later. "He knows, now, that Edward does not lie about his love. They will mend this, I am hoping. _Auf Wiedersehen, meine lieben Freunde_."

"Alfons!" Roy's eyes slid open. His lashes were wet.

"_Ja_?"

Mustang licked his lips. His mouth was very, very dry. "_Vielen Dank. Vielen Dank für Zeigen mich."_

Heiderich's smile was boyish, beautiful. "_Sorgen Sie für ihn für mich. Für wir beiden. Auf Wiedersehen." Take care of him for me—for both of us._

"No promises."

"I understand." Edward's hand trembled as it brushed a soft strand of sweaty black hair out of Taisa's eyes. "Tomorrow we'll discuss the trip to Ranamuerte. He—Heiderich—says that the stone has been tampered with. We've got to get that thing shut down. And we've got to get that other stone out of the foundation in the Carriage house." He paused, awkward in the silence between them. "The wedding…?"

"I don't know, Edward. This is not a good time to ask me about that." He nodded briefly. "Goodnight."

"Taisa—_wait_." And he was in Mustang's arms, winding himself around the taller man, rising up on his toes to reach that impassive mouth. Roy didn't resist, and after a tense moment began returning the kiss, pulling his estranged lover closer until they were hugging one another so tightly he feared their ribs would crack. It would be so damned easy, they both knew, to lock the door behind them, tumble onto the bed and lose themselves in each other…but it would be too easy. One glorious fuck does not wipe the slate clean. This time they had wounded one another deeply. They would have to learn to trust again…and that could not be accomplished overnight. And so they parted, neither smiling, retreating to their separate rooms and separate beds…but both of them slept just a little bit better that night.

Before Mustang came back to the music room, Edwin Hoenheim Elric slipped out and closed the door behind him. He carefully coiled up the microphone cord—the 25 footer—the one that was thin enough to slip through the bottom edge of the window screen, long enough to dangle outside the window of the library where the swamp hag was working her voodoo with the family. The little Sapphire Ivory MP3 recorder had the most amazing condenser microphone built right into it, but he used the Shure cartiod mic Teddy preferred when recording music. The little Roland amp had been easy to figure out. Run the mic into the Line In, hook the Ivory to the Line Out, then upload the file into his iPod. With luck, he wouldn't' t miss a word they said in their little red coat meeting—the one they held behind Edward's back.

He crawled in his bed, jammed the ear buds in, cranked the playback and listened.

_"Alfons? Herr Heiderich? Es ist mich -- Tricia. Die Nichte von Edward. Können Sie mich hören?" Alfons? Mr. Heiderich? It's me—Tricia. Edward's niece. Can you hear me?_

It was all Gluttony could do to keep Envy inside the car before he could motor to a location secluded enough for his tantrum. "Careful! You'll---awwwww, now look what you've done, Envy! You've stabbed a hole right though the upholstery!" Looking nervously around at the cars on either side of their sleek grey Beamer, he prayed to no deity in particular that the over zealous Carolina cops wouldn't notice he had a maniac in the back seat flailing around with a remarkably long knife. "I—hang on—there's the turn off to the state park. _Puh­-leez_, Envy! You're going to get us into trouble!"

Envy flung himself face down onto the back seat, biting down hard on the leather, hissing furiously, his blade now plunging up and down into the back of the driver's seat. "Oh! Owww! That _hurts!_ I'll tell Lust on you!" In order to pass for something near human, Envy had crammed Gluttony's pallid bulk into a rather sober looking three piece suit. The buttons strained a bit—especially after Gluttony ate the tailor who hemmed up his pants—but no one would mark him as anything other than a grossly fat man with platinum card privileges. And since every jab of the blade made another tear in the tightly stressed fabric, Gluttony was in very real danger of having his trousers split right off his mountainous bum.

"_She_-doesn't-give-a-_shit_-about-you! I _told_ you." The tip of the blade punched right through leather, padding, another layer of padding, another of leather and poked a full half inch into ass crack. "Neither does Greed, that sorry son of a bitch."

"Be fair, Envy," his companion whimpered. "Greed was the one who told you where they were. He said they were on the island."

"And nobody was there when we broke in," Envy snapped back. "Or I'd have fucked his ex with the business end of a butcher knife until she told me where the Pipsqueak is—and how to find—"

"---_Please_, Envy! Don't say his name!"

"HOW—" _stab_ "-TO-" stab-_grind_ "FIND" _hack-_slash "—MY—" _jab-slash "FAAAATHER!!!!"_

Silence.

A small voice from the front seat. "Envy?"

"_What, _goddamn it?"

"Can I have a cheeseburger?"

Pause. _Sigh_. "Soon as I kill something, okay?"

"I like Sonic. Can we have Sonic?"

"That the place with the cherry limeade?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay. But you're paying---and I want fries instead of tater tots this time."

RISEMBOOL SOUTH

They assembled promptly at ten behind closed doors. Three in black. Three in red.

Win-Sara and her brother Alfons sat outside the library with Edwin. Facing them on the opposite wall was a large framed photograph taken when Teddy was in 6th grade, performing in some benefit show to raise money for a local charity. Teddy, Win-Sara and Winry were lined up on stage in 1950's poodle skirts, pony tails and sherbet-colored cashmere sweaters, each belting into a microphone. To Winry's right, Alfons perched, grinning, on the back of his mom's vintage Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle—the one Malcolm Forbes offered their mom a small fortune for and Al's proudest possession. Edwin jerked his head towards the photo. "What gives?"

His grandfather chuckled warmly at the memory. "They were singing this old song, 'The Leader of the Pack'. I got to gun the engine during the chorus. It was great."

"Where'd Aunt Tee get the Stratocaster?"

"Borrowed it from her guitar teacher. That's not the one upstairs—she got hers for her Sweet Sixteen. All the other girls in her class got charm bracelets," Win-Sara answered proudly. "Her senior year she dressed up like Hendrix under her robes, jumped up out of the school band and played 'Star Spangled Banner' as a joke during her graduation instead of 'Pomp and Circumstance'. Miracle they didn't take back her diploma."

"And now she has to do it again at every class reu—oh, Hughes!" Mayland had poked his head out of the double doors, gesturing for the boy.

The color drained right out of his grandson's face. Alfons patted his shoulder. "It's going to be all right. They're not going to eat you, for heaven's sake!"

"It will be all right, Eddie—I promise," Great Auntie Win assured him with a hug he'd have been too cool to accept even five minutes ago. "Aunt Tee survived the same talk—so will you."

Hughes gestured for him to hurry. Edwin followed him through the door, dragging his feet with every step.

"Not in the house!" Win poked her brother in the ribs as he dug in his breast pocket for a hand rolled cigar. "Let's go outside to wait. We both know what's going to come of it."

Alfons looked skeptical. "Maybe with Teddy—she always had that funny turn of mind, you know? But with this kid…there's no telling."

As was the current custom, each red-coated _sensei_ sat across the table from his or her alchemic disciple. Alchemic tradition required that spouses refrain from the student/teacher relationship, so Remy studied under Alphonse and Roy trained with Teddy.

That paired Edward with Jeanne-Marie, much to their mutual annoyance. The fact that she'd _dared_ to barge into his bedroom and reamed him out, asshole to elbow, over the incident with Heiderich's fetch, was a serious breach in protocol, while Teddy had been perfectly within her rights to lay Mustang out to whaleshit for over-reacting to the whole mess.

So at the moment young Edwin entered the library, the only pair of serene eyes that welcomed him belonged to grandfather and Uncle Jean-Remy. "Sit," Edward ordered with a flick of a gleaming metal hand the boy had never seen before—in fact, Uncle Edo was wearing a black tank top under his red coat, which he shrugged off a shoulder that was—ohhh, _shit!—_made of gleaming grey metal and _bolted_ on, right through his skin.

"You want to know the truth, kid? _Take a good look_."

*****************************************************************************************

"More ginger tea?"

"N-no. Thanks. I'm…I mean…it's…_okay_."

Aunt Tee patted him on the back. "Yeah, I know. Threw me for a loop the first time I got a good look at it. I accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom when he was getting out of the shower. I was about six years old and had a habit of not knocking if I really needed to pee. His arm and leg shocked me so badly I forgot to notice his dick. And Edo's so used to his automail it didn't occur to him that it was all the metal that sent me running through the house, screaming at the top of my lungs. He took mom aside and suggested that for the sake of my future husband she might want to tell me a little something about male anatomy."

Edwin managed a weak grin and wiped his mouth for the umpteenth time. Remy had already replaced the wastebasket and a shot of Febreeze had killed the smell. The adults had all been sympathetic with his reaction, especially Edo, who now tapped his coffee cup with a teaspoon, calling them back to the table.

"All right. Let's continue." Discreetly, Edwin tapped the _record_ button on the tiny Sapphire Ivory mp3 unit in his pocket, vowing to edit out the sound of his disgraceful retching as soon as he could get a moment alone with Aunt Teddy's mixing board upstairs.

"So…Edwin. Since Jeanne-Marie—" he shot the old woman a poisonous glare, "—has told you the essentials, _without our permission_, mind you—I'm going to open up the floor to you, kid. I know you've got questions. Fire away."

And fire away he did. Gracia sent in a huge tray of sandwiches, a couple of apple pies, a fresh pot of coffee and a couple of cold cokes for Edwin and Teddy. They talked through lunch. They talked through most of the afternoon, adjourning only for bathroom breaks and for Teddy to check on Izumi.

At Edwin's request, they sent out for pizza before Denny Brosh took the floor to show him the actual video footage of the Gateway stone near Disney World, the one called Orlando 5. There were also some digital photos Taisa had snapped of the Ranamuerte stone—the one linked to the Gatestone in Liore. The footage of his Grandfather and Aunt being dragged _right through the surface of the stone_ by a pair of strong human hands made him drop his slice of double-pepperoni and dash for the wastebasket again. Worse yet were the scenes of their return—Uncle Edward, with Uncle Taisa and Uncle Jean holding on to him, leaning halfway _into_ the stone, being yanked back, pulling Teddy and Alphonse out, the thick blood fountaining out of Teddy's mouth, her father moaning and weeping and pale as death. He backed away from the table, trembling all over. "S-stop! Stop it!" he sobbed, covering his face with his sweaty hands.

Everyone agreed that the kid had had enough for one day. "Let's go out and get some ice cream or something," Alphonse had suggested. They piled into Arlo and headed across the bridge to Mt. Pleasant.

"Sonic okay?" Remy asked over his shoulder. "The milkshakes are the best."

"Well, the best we can get at this hour," Mays added.

"Is that the place that has the cherry limeade?" Ed wanted to know. "That drive in place? Yeah, it is—and they've got this really evil thing called Frito Pie. Take a handful of Fritos, bury 'em under homemade chili and beans and cover the whole damn thing with cheese and hot peppers."

"Damn good thing I'm not sleeping with _you_ tonight," Mustang observed dryly. "Too chilly to sleep with the windows open."

"_Fuck you_, Mustang."

"Fuck yourself, Ed. That's what you're good at, isn't it?"

"_WHOAAA!_ _This_ is _Radio Station WTMI_—Too Much Information. Why don't we change the channel?" Hughes was trying to defuse what might escalate into the kind of ugly name calling that might not stop once Ed and Roy got wound up. He shot a furthitive glance at the kid, who just shrugged and fiddled with his shirt pocket.

"Okay, that's four cherry limeades, one chocolate Dr. Pepper, one coke, one Diet Sprite with lime, a Frito Pie, three cheeseburgers—one with no pickles, a foot long Coney with no chili and Monterey grilled chicken wrap, sauce on the side. _And_ one banana split."

"And tater tots instead of fries—oh, and we need extra ketchup. _Here_." Alphonse handed a couple of twenties to the carhop. "Keep the change." He turned to his daughter. "I know—but if she can keep all that straight and carry out that mountain of food she deserves it."

Soon as the food arrived, Mustang ordered everybody to roll down their windows. When Remy asked him why, his friend shot back, "You've obviously never been around Ed in a Mexican restaurant." Edward grabbed his snack and gobbled it down greedily, washing it down with great gulps of cherry limeade. As a result, he'd polished off his food long before everyone else and belched heroically. "Brother," Alphonse pointed out, "you wouldn't get gas if you'd slow down. You swallow all this air when you gulp your food---"

"Do I need to burp you over my shoulder like Izumi?" Teddy snickered. "Remy, have you got a spit rag?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "I am SO blessed to be a part of such a loving family."

"Hey, Aunt Tee—they got bathrooms here?" Edwin asked. "I gotta take a piss."

"Watch your mouth, goddamn it!" Jeanne-Marie muttered. "Don' let me catch you cussin' in front o' dem _bebés _ at home, cher"

The bathrooms were along the rear of the building. Edwin ducked inside, locked the door with a shaking hand…and then hit the _rewind_ button.

"_So you're saying the whole atomic weapons thing—the bomb and all—you mean that's our fault?"_

"_Yeah. I mean, Huskisson sent it through the Gateway because we failed to stop it. And then the Nazis got their hands on it before we could find it ourselves. So…yeah. And that's why we've pledged our lives to this—to serving, to watching Hoenheim's Portal stones. Because either something worse can come from Amestris—or something worse can come from here."_

"_Um…like…have there been other breakouts since the one in the war? The one where Grandpa came back across?"_

"_Yeah. Unfortunately. There's dozens of these stones. Denny and Teddy and the rest of us keep track of them. Last time was a year ago—but that wasn't an attack. That was…an old friend who was trying to find me. But your Grandpa and Aunt Teddy could have been killed, getting there and getting back, not to mention your Grandpa almost got his head blown off by somebody who hadn't seen him in years…"_

He hit _record. _"This is me. And this is some weird-assed shit going down. I'm gonna keep records of all this stuff they're telling me, uploading it on my Nano, just in case they turn out to be a bunch of psycho-freaks or something. But…I dunno. I think I believe them, maybe." He hit _pause_ and stuffed the mp3 micro recorder back into his shirt pocket. He peed, washed his hands and face, toweled off and stepped outside.

He walked straight into a huge flabby man who was frantically grabbing at his torn pants. Right behind him stood a slim young man with long black hair, lavender eyes and a face of considerable beauty—so much that it was momentarily hard to determine the person's gender until one checked out his lack of cleavage.

The violet eyes _flashed_ in recognition. "It's….you." He leaned closer; Edwin was too terrified to move. "You have hot fudge on your chin." Swift as a snake, the strange man snatched up a handful of Edwin's hair, yanked him close and sensuously licked the chocolate from the boy's face. "Delicious."

The fat man _drooled_. "Can I eat him?"

The monstrous beauty smiled, revealing pointed eyeteeth. "No. This one's mine…so fresh…ummmmm….so young. Does he…_remind_ you of someone?"

A fat tongue swirled around thick lips. "Hoenheim. He looks like our _Father_."

Edwin stopped struggling for a second. "_Hoenheim??_ That's _my—"_

They were interrupted by a staccato blast of muffled flatulence. "Goddamn Mustang and his smart mouth," Edward was muttering as he rounded the corner. "Never lets me forget about—HEY! _GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM, YOU FREAK!_"

Envy's head swiveled. His eyes locked on target, then _blazed_. "You….it's _you again_, Pipsqueak. _Why the hell won't you just DIE??"_ Shoving Gluttony aside, he grabbed Edwin around the throat, dove backward and locked the restroom door behind him.

As Edward hammered and shouted, Edwin sank to his knees, wide eyed and terrified. "Please," he begged. "Please, god…don't hurt me."

"Being dead doesn't hurt," Envy smirked, pushing him down onto the grimy floor. "Being fucked in the ass? Yeah. That's gonna hurt…a lot. Especially if you're not careful." He leaned in, ripped the boy's shirt open, buttons pinging on the dirty tiles. "I have no intention of being careful…oohh…now what do we have here?"

"GIVE THAT BACK!" Edwin shouted, then gasped in pain when the stranger pinched his nipple between sharp fingernails.

"So…what does the wittle baby alchemist wike to wisten to on his wittle pwayer, hmmmmm?" He flicked it on, eyes sparkling at the sound of familiar voiced. _Hated_ voices:

"_There's been some disturbance in the Portal Stone on Ranamuerte again—that's the one Armstrong said he'd buried in the lake. Some idiot is trying to tamper with it, so we're going down there to check it. And get married."_

_(SILENCE)_

"_Okay…maybe not get married. Alphonse and I have to go. Teddy and Remy are coming with us. Roy, you still in?"_

_(SILENCE) "Yeah. I'm coming."_

"_You not leavin' me behind, old man."_

"_Right. Hughes? You're staying here, right? You and Gracia are going to keep the kids?"_

"_Yeah. I can run my practice from here, no sweat. And he's staying here with us, right Edwin? We don't know when your dad is getting back from Atlanta."_

_(SILENCE) "Yeah. Whatever. You mean I can't go?"_

"_After all the shit you've seen—you still believe it? This ain't Harry Potter, kid. This is real. I'm not putting you at risk."_

"_Uncle Edward, you said you were just going to look at the stone, right? What kind of risk is that?"_

_(SIGH) "Wish I knew, kid. Wish I—"_

The lithe figure stuffed the recorder in his pocket. "Well…well…_well_. A little change in plans….since you're an _ELRIC_. I was gonna fuck you and then kill you…ohhh, so slow…so hard and deep—the knife in your guts, not my cock in your ass—you might actually enjoy that part, considering your uncle is a cocksucker, just like his daddy Hoenheim. I think I'll just _skin_ you. Then I'll let Gluttony have a few bites—oh, nothing you'll really need. Eventually I'll fuck you…and that's when the fun---"

_Ker-BLAMMMMM!_

A size 13 Tony Lama boot kicked in the door. It was followed by the muzzle of a semi-automatic pistol of a caliber that might not kill a homunculus—but it would sure as shit slow him down some. Havoc fired off a half dozen rounds into the back of Envy's head. Edward kicked the body to one side, grabbed his nephew and ran like hell.

Gluttony was in the shadows, picking the remains of a foot long Coney out of his brick-like teeth. Havoc ran right over him. So did Edward, pausing only momentarily to kick the brute squarely in the crotch with his automail foot.

Diving into the Microbus, they screeched off down Coleman boulevard, pedal to the floor and the cops be goddamned. Edward hugged his nephew tightly as Alphonse flicked out his cell phone. "Gracia? Listen to me. Grab the 'bug out' kit, get the babies and Ai-San and meet us at the airport. Don't forget the passports. We're leaving _now_—and tell Al and Win I love them—and to get the hell out of town." He snapped the phone shut with a sigh, then opened it again to leave a voice mail on Fritz's cell phone, telling him Edwin was fine but was going with them on a little business trip to the islands—oh, nothing to worry about. They'd call him when they got back—and to stay away from the house on I'on Avenue.

"Must have been that old VW backfiring," the carhop wondered aloud as the van roared away in the night. "Good tippers."

Gluttony laved smears of Envy's blood off the filthy floor with his tongue, hoisted Envy's inert body over one beefy shoulder and tossed him into the back seat of the Beamer.

Envy shuddered, moaned a little. "_Ranamuerte_," he gasped. One hand pawed at his pocket. He dug out Edwin's recorder, jammed the buds in his ear. Presently he began to smile.

"Gluttony?"

"Yes?"

"I never got that cherry limeade. Find us another Sonic. I _so_ hate," he smirked evilly, "to travel on an empty stomach…."

…TO BE CONTINUED….


	10. Chapter 10

With nine adults, two infants, a preschooler and a terrified teenager who'd narrowly missed being assaulted and killed, Taisa's hotel suite at the airport was a little too crowded for the conversation at hand. Alphonse had been downright hysterical, insisting that nobody leave the hotel—or even venture out into the hallway—until they boarded the plane out of Charleston to Orlando on their way to catch the next scheduled flight on Air Carribe to the island of Ranamuerte. Once they reached the island the Red Coats and Black Coats would examine Hohenheim's portal stone for suspicious activity—and, perhaps, Edward and Mustang would get legally married…or not. At the moment, if one was to take the temperature of the tension between the two, odds favored that the only chance rice might be pelted would be if Alycia began playing with her Chinese take-out.

The little girls were the only ones blissfully unaware that most of the grownups in the room were within a hair's breadth of shouting at one another, particularly when Edwin reluctantly admitted that he'd snagged Teddy's little Ivory mp3 recorder, stuffed it in his shirt and recorded every damn word of their conversations during that damn-near-day long disclosure of family secrets—all the way back to the day when the brothers had chalked out a circle in the basement of their family farmhouse and changed their world forever. Alphonse had gone dead white with rage and Ed had to be physically restrained by Hughes and Mustang. What hurt the boy the most was seeing his aunt turn her face away, biting her lips until they bled slightly, then fixing him with a terrible expression and reminding him that he'd blown their carefully crafted cover and quite possibly condemned them all to a gruesome death at Envy's hands—and that Envy would not hesitate to kill the little girls. "Take a good look at her," she told him sternly, one hand gesturing towards her only child, greedily sucking at her bottle in Remy's arms. "If she dies because of this, it's because of your stupidity."

Mastering his anger, Alphonse informed the family that from this moment Edwin could no longer be trusted with the family's secrets—and could not be trusted to go without full parental supervision. "My mistake," he sighed wearily, "was thinking that you were like Brother and I were at your age, that you had even a modicum of maturity and that you'd put the safety of your family first. I was wrong, apparently—so Jeanne-Marie has graciously agreed to serve as your…._babysitter_…until your father Fritz returns."

The boy's mouth dropped open. One fierce glare from his new nanny made him close it promptly. "I ain't gonna beat you, child," she warned him with smile devoid of anything closely resembling warmth. "But by de time I be done wit you, you wish I _had_. My Remy—if he done his family dirt like you did, _cher_, I boot his sorry ass right over de goalpost. But yo' people—dey don't believe an ass-whuppin' gonna make you straighten up an' fly right. Say I got to be _creative_ in dealin' wid you, 'cause you think you so smart, _non_? So from now on, you ain't wipin' your ass widout my permission, _d'accord?_ An' you can just hand over your iPod –you don't need dat toy. You ain't goin' online, either, an' no cable tv. From dis point on, you better _sir_ an' _ma'am_ your betters an' if Teddy-cher or Gracie say _frog_, you damn well better ask 'em how high dey want you to jump, _oui?_ Now, dese babies don't got disposable diapers—so you better help out yer aunties by washin' out de contents of _dese_." She pointed a bony finger towards a pair of matching diaper bags. "An' you better wash 'em good an' do it right, 'cause if I see one hint o' diaper rash on either o' these babies _be_-hinds, _you_ gonna be the one who sits up wid dem when they screamin' their heads off. Now…_git."_

The only thing that assuaged Alphonse's anxiety was the knowledge that his two older children had been warned off and were safely out of range, and that both Win-Sara and Alfons wouldn't give up until they'd reached Fritz by phone, making sure he understood that Edwin was safe, but on no account was he to return to Resembool South until further notice. Taisa had likewise left voice mails to his Uncle Simon, advising the old man that he and Edward were heading straight to Ranamuerte. He hinted that there was some friction between them still, "so if you still want to come just to visit, I'd be glad to see you—and Nigel, if he's traveling with you. Just don't be too disappointed if the wedding doesn't come off—at least not now."

Edward, on the other hand, had snuck out to the lobby with his cell phone to speed dial a certain number stored on his Motorola. "Hello, Paninya? Edward Elric here."

There was a low, sarcastic snort on the other end. "_Well_….if it ain't Mister Little Mon Elric. You manage to kiss and make up with Mustang? Or did he get him some good sense and dump your cheatin' ass? This be the second time you broke that man's heart since I met you, you pimple-pricked little—" Before he could fire back an acidic retort there was a struggle on the Ranamuerte side of the discussion. "Paninya! Is that any way—_give me that phone_, right this instant! Ohhh, I'm _so_ sorry, Mister Elric! She's generally a lovely girl, but there are times---"

Edward cut him off abruptly. "The wedding is on, Paul. We'll be flying out to Orlando tomorrow. Hard part will be getting a connection with Air Carribe."

Paul Youngblood, formerly of American Airlines Steward Service, now director of the Hope Springs Resort Chapel of Eternal Bliss, chuckled merrily over the phone. "Ed, _darling_, not to worry! Ever since the government legalized same sex marriage on the island we've had such a rush of couples winging down that we've got daily departures now from Orlando to Port Norman. And don't fret about facilities, either! Soon as I heard you lovebirds were planning to get married I've had you penciled in. May take a bit of shuffling, but you'll have the best of everything, just as I promised. Granted, now, we've got a contingent of Dianic Witches coming down for a mass handfasting this week—oh, and there's some pesky DEA agents threatening darling Paninya over the exportation of crystallized toad venom—but that's all a lie, Edward. A filthy lie, and I hope their pee-pee's drop off and get eaten by the fishies. You don't worry your pretty head about this. You just go make up with La Divine Mustang—rub his toes, make him breakfast in bed, buy him some nice prezzies—a good hand job—whatever it takes. And I'll see you as soon as you arrive. Ciao, darling!"

Soon as Edward returned from the lobby Mustang cornered him. "Chaos in here," he told his partner. "We could talk in the bathroom, but Remy's got Teddy in there. Says they would be 'in and out in a few minutes'."

Ed smirked, "Sounds like they'll be in and out…and _in_ and _out_…and _in_ and _out_-ing until he's satisfied that he's got Teddy calm enough to sleep. Bet you Mays and Gracia are next in line—unless my brother and Ai-san—"

Mustang looked shocked. "_Al_---and Ai-san?? I know he's more than a little interested, but I doubt she'd _ever_ consider—"

"Shut up, Roy,' he snapped. "I was only kidding. Jeeze, get that sharp stick out of your ass. I don't stick my nose into my brother's love life."

"The hell you don't. You're a manipulative, meddling bastard—and I'm still pissed as hell at you. In _here_." Snatching at Ed's arm, Mustang steered him into the stairwell and closed the door behind them. Glancing around, he gestured for silence, making sure there was nobody else around. Without preamble, he grabbed Edward by the shoulders and shoved him hard against the wall.

"What the f—"

"_Shut up_. For once in your goddamn life, shut up and _listen_ to me." The fingers tightened. Edward looked up into Taisa's face as if he'd never seen his lover before. It was startling how…_tired_ he looked, as if the separation of last week had taken a great deal out of him. He was unusually pale, his mouth a grim, tight line, his dark eyes full of so much pain that a block of ice congealed in the pit of Edward's stomach. _He's had enough of us. He's leaving for good this time._

Divining the panic on Edward's face, Taisa kept his voice calm. "I'm not going anywhere—even though nobody would blame me a damn bit if I did. And yes—I will marry you, you son of a bitch." He shook his head in defeat. "I hate how you've dug yourself into my heart. I hate the way I can't _breathe_ when we're apart. Nobody should be so essential to my happiness. I've tried to walk away. I had no intention of coming back—but Teddy tore me a new asshole over the way I left, and Falman said if I didn't resolve this face to face with you I'd regret it the rest of my life."

Hope flickered inside the older man. "Taisa…_Roy_…I—"

"_I told you to shut the fuck up!_ God-_damn_, do you _ever_ hear anything I say, Edward? You _won_. I can't live without you. And yeah, I did talk to Heiderich's fetch. He showed me what happened, showed me how much you loved me. Point is, you never should have let me find out like this—me or anyone else. You didn't lie outright—but this was something too important to keep from me."

Ed didn't look away. "If I told anyone, it might have gotten back to my brother. I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect Alphonse."

"Which means you didn't think you could trust me with this. You should know me better, after all these years."

The older alchemist's eyes glistened. "You're right. And I'm sorry. Thank you for forgiving me."

Mustang moved in closer. "Oh, I haven't forgiven you Ed. Not _yet_." His hand snaked around his lover's back, snatching hold of Edward's lengthy gold ponytail. "And the _payback_ is gonna be a _bitch._"

"Hey! What the fuck are—"

"I told you to shut up. Now be quiet." The button fastening Ed's collar _pinged_ against the railing as Taisa tore it open, folding the crisp linen back from Edward's tanned throat. He admired the glowing skin for a few moments, licking his lips a little. Then he fastened his mouth to that inviting flesh, aiming for that oh so sensitive spot about two inches behind Ed's ear.

"_Nrgghhhh!_" Edward's eyes grew wide with shock about the same time his knees turned to Jello. Mustang was nipping, sucking hard…biting gently…_licking_, goddamn it…_ohhhh_. Oh god, it sent hot shivers along his spine, made him shudder with delight—god, he was so fucking sensitive…oh yeah…_there_.

And he wasn't stopping, either. A warm tongue gently circled the inside of his ear and a whisper of warm breath put undue pressure on the zipper of his trousers. Then that demanding mouth moved downward again, this time towards that tender flesh above his collarbone. More nipping…more sucking. After so damn long that roving mouth had him sliding down to his knees, weak with need. He tried to caress his lover, only to have his hands rudely shoved away. That death grip on his hair hadn't eased any, either.

Realizing that Edward was in peril of banging the crap out his knees, Roy steered him away from the wall and onto the steps, where Roy laid him back against the cold concrete, crouched over his supine body and continued to feast, making soft wet sounds, punctuated with murmurs and purrs of satisfaction, like some sleek predator with its prey helpless and quivering beneath its paws.

A deep, ravenous kiss and Edward was flipped over. Mustang was riding him now, pressing the hot ridge of his cock firmly into the cleft of Ed's buttocks as he continued his relentless sucking and biting. "God…Taisa..." he moaned, arching his hips backwards, hoping to coax his angry lover into something more substantial than that maddening dry humping that was driving him berserk. He vaguely remembered their first date, doing the same damn thing in the back seat of Teddy's VW microbus, how Taisa had begged him frantically to fuck him…how he had refused, too afraid that if they bedded so soon Roy would consider the older man little more than just a fevered quickie and a one time fling. Edward had known even before he'd seen Taisa that the younger man was his Colonel reborn and refused to take any risk that could drive them apart yet again. Instead they'd been caught by a rookie cop that bore a scary resemblance to Roy's former First Lieutenant. They'd been caught with their pants down—literally. Ed had been bitten on the ass by Officer Hawkeye's dope dog after getting a cold nose right up his butt. He'd snapped her gun in half with his bare hand and they'd both gotten hauled off to the slammer.

It had nearly been the end of them, even before they'd begun.

There had been some fierce quarrels over the years—but nothing would ever be as bad as their first date. Even this mess with Heiderich—Ed never doubted that they would somehow muddle through the mess and find their way back together. If this was Roy's price—making him yearn, making him suffer, giving him the worst case of blue balls since that night in Amestris when the Colonel shoved him out of his lap when Ed was a horny teenager and Roy was mourning Maes Hughes—then Ed would pay it, goddamn it.

Abruptly, Roy pulled away. There was the sound of ragged breathing. A low, guttural cry, choked off, followed by soft groans. The sound of a zipper being done up. "Get up, Ed."

His neck felt vaguely sore from all the sucking and gnawing. His cock was screaming at him, demanding a little _quid pro quo_. Ed mentally informed his penis to shut the hell up until he could manage a few minutes alone in the shower, which was currently occupied by a couple of writhing heterosexuals. Gracia was limber, Hughes was inventive and a flustered Alphonse had just turned up the tv to drown out the sound of wet flesh pounding against slick tile.

To his surprise, Mustang gathered him gently into his arms, cradling Ed's head against his shoulder, softly nuzzling the blond tangles. "Goddamn you, Edward Elric," he whispered softly. "Don't you ever break my heart again. And since you asked me to marry you, I hope you like your…._engagement ring_."

Ring? "What the fuck are you…no…you…_didn't_…"

Roy smirked. "Might want to stock up on turtlenecks, _lover_. Those love bites aren't going to fade anytime soon. Or," he offered, "we could see if Teddy or Gracia have anything to cover them up—but I doubt it."

Ed glowered up at the love of his life. "All right, you bastard. You got even with me, fair and square. I promise not to hold out on you. You promise to marry me when we get to the island."

Mustang held up a cautioning finger. "And one thing more, _Edowado_. Until I get _my_ ring, you keep your goddamn hands off my body."

Ed's jaw dropped in horror. "Y-you don't mean…?"

A curt nod. "You can always practice on your own. Might improve your technique."

"MUSTANG! YOU SON OF A---"

**ELSEWHERE……**

"Play it again."

"Sure."

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit_

_And it's filled with people who are filled with shit—_

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it—_

"BUT NOT FOR LOOOONNNGG! God--I LOVE that! I ADORE Johnny Depp!"

"Can I eat him?"

Envy considered carefully. "Only if he won't fuck me. C'mon! C'mon! Find a parking space already!"

The new trainee usher at the Regal Cinemas 20, five exits down from the Miami-Orlando International Airport, nervously thumbed his walkie-talkie and prayed like hell Mr., Albertson wasn't at lunch. "H-hello, Sir? This is, ah, Chris. Y'know. The new guy? Yeah…uh huh…Right, but sir there's a problem here. I'm working the 3:45 showing of _Sweeney Todd, _that's in number 14, A-wing. No—not like that. Just some weird guy who brought in a drink from Sonic. I asked him to put it in the trash…and…and…Welllll…he tried to _bite_ me! No, some weird Goth kid, but his teeth, jeeze—looked like he had 'em _filed_. All pointy. Long dreadlocks. Weird, huh? You will?? Thanks sir!"

In the back row, 17-year-old Peyton Boland was getting a world class brain freeze as he chugged down a Mega Thirst-Buster PowerAde. "Excuse me—did you buy that here?" the skinny dude with the dreads asked as he leaned over the back of Peyton's seat.

"Yeah…why?"

"Trade ya for something stronger?" Looking around for an usher, the scrawny guy pulled a beer out of his coat. "I want that cup."

"_Dude!" _Peyton's jaw dropped. "Got yerself a deal, man!" His eyes glinted greedily. "I'll just take it in the shitter and knock it back. Thanks, bro'!"

Envy poured the PowerAde on the floor, dumped the content of his Route 55 Cherry Limeade into the Regal Cinemas cup and tossed the empty to Gluttony, who grimaced at the chewy texture of the Styrofoam but swallowed it down anyway.

Chris the usher spent an uncomfortable half-shift scrubbing toilets after Mr. Albertson hunted down the smugglers and found the Goth kid serenely sucking down his Thirst Buster and sharing an extra large tub of buttered popcorn with his fat friend. With no usher to shut him up, Envy was free to sing along—in fact, with a little encouragement all the Fleet Street fans were shouting along with him—so loudly the projectionist had to crank up the volume in the theatre next door…

_Not one man, no, nor ten men.  
Nor a hundred can assuage me.  
I will have you!  
And I will get him back even as he gloats  
In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats…_

Chris had just finished mopping up a puddle of urine from the third stall when he heard someone moaning and vomiting in the handicap stall at the end of the row. "Hey! You all right in there?" There was a loud gurgling noise and what sounded like somebody begging Jesus to save him—first Jesus, then his mother.

By the time Mr. Albertson stormed in gouts of blood-streaked vomit were splattering all over the floor and the boy in the handicap stall was screaming for mercy. There was a beer bottle resting on the sanitary napkin disposal bin. Albertson sniffed the contents and jerked his head abruptly. Chris stared at his boss, who shook his head grimly. "Call 911. _Hurry_. Whatever the hell it is—it didn't come from Budweiser.."

_I will have vengeance.  
I will have salvation…_

"Dinner and a movie, Gluttony. Movie for me," Envy stretched luxuriously in the warm spring air, "and dinner for you."

"Where?"

"The trunk—remember? The food we packed in Charleston. Should still be fresh."

But after three days in the trunk of Envy's rented Hummer the 'food' has lost much of its fight. "You know, I was going to make this a family reunion, but that bastard Edward and that wimpy brother of his gave us the slip. We know where they're heading—and we know what flight they're going to be on. Much fun as it would be to kill you slowly and make your pansy-ass son watch…I don't think you're going to last that much longer, Fritz. Still…you're an _ELRIC_. So I'll ask you the same thing I asked your pretty son: do you want me to fuck you _before_ or _after_ I kill you? Because you're going to die—and you're going to get fucked. That's not up for negotiation. Or…hummm…" he flicked out the lovely silver handled razor he'd purchased after seeing the movie, "do you like movies? Have you seen _Sweeney Todd_? Isn't Johnny Depp wonderful?? Would you like to be fucked by Johnny Depp?" The feral features began to blur and change as the razor began its dance towards the throat of Fritz Lang Elric—son of Alfons Heiderich Elric, grandson of Alphonse Elric…father of Edwin Hohenheim Elric, whose iPod was flicked on, its attached speakers roaring out the "Epiphany":

"_Swing your razor wide, Envy!_

_Steel and silver shine!_

_Bathe it in the blood_

_That came from HOHENHEIM……"_

At the Hyatt-Regency Orlando Airport hotel, Alphonse hung up the phone, shaking his head sadly. "Ni-isan---Win-Sara says nobody's heard anything from Fritz. He's still looking for Christine in Atlanta, but he's not answering his mail or voicemail."

Edward smirked and shook his head. "Bet he found her. He'd rather chase her tail than look after his kid. Remind me to whip that boy's ass when I see him next. So…what the hell do we do with the kid?

Alphonse turned worried eyes towards Edwin, who was feeding Izumi her bottle under Jeanne-Marie's watchful approval. The kid was smiling down at his tiny cousin who was gurgling contentedly. _Maybe there's hope for him._ "Brother? Let's take him with us to Ranamuerte, I mean, it would nice to have him at your wedding—and maybe he should see the Portal Stone."

Ed made a noncommittal grunt and grabbed the remote, flopped down on the end of the bed beside Roy and flipped the channel—pausing at Fox News, where Bill O'Reilly was gassing on about curing homosexuals.

"What do you want to watch that crap for," Roy wanted to know.

"Wait—look at that book they're waving around---remember that asshole? That guy running the seminar at Hope Springs last year? That guy making a fortune off persuading poor closet cases that he could cure them of---WHAT THE FUCK????"

Alphonse joined them in time to see the video clip of James Busbee McDonald ranting madly, sweat rolling down his greasy forehead.

. "Mah wife…" McDonald was wailing into the microphone, tugging at his tie. "Oh…GAWD! Mah pore darlin' Beverly! Cain't yew IMAGINE how it must've PAINED that GOOD WOMAN! Knowin' she was lyin' in bed…next to a SODDOMITE! Do you KNOW what was goin' threw MAH mind, brothers? Do yew??"

…and an oddly familiar voice was answering him back:

"_Yeah. The 800 number for the Jerry Springer Show. That's the American Idol for trailer trash freaks like you, asshole!"_

Alphonse' eyes grew enormous. "Brother?? What the _hell_ were you doing at that seminar??"

The image on the screen froze. "And if that face looks familiar," the odious comentator crowed, "you'll recognise him as alleged 'ghost rape' victim, EDWARD ELRIC…"

"_FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!_" Edward snatched the cell phone off his hip so fast he tore the side of his pocket. "HUGHES!" he bellowed. "Get your asses back here! And find Teddy and Remy!"

_Well, doesn't that just suck ten miles of dick._ Ear ringing, Mays snapped his Motorola shut and took a deep swallow of Glenlivet, pissed that he wasn't given time to savor its smoky richness—or to savor the company of his lovely wife, whose aqua eyes sparkled above the rim of her wine spritzer. "Sorry, girlfriend," he sighed. "Ed's got his shorts in a knot over something. Better get back to the room. Teddy and Remy are having dinner, right?"

"They changed their minds and decided to try out the jacuzzi. Want me to go get them?"

Hughes shook his head. "No, just head up to the room. We'll be right behind you. I'd call but I'm betting they've got their phones turned off…"

Nobody else was in the pool area, and once submerged the bubbles and steam provided adequate cover. Skimpy fabric was discreetly rearranged, and Jean Remy Havoc pressed his face into the curve of Teddy's shoulder, biting his lip to keep from groaning in delight—it was so….oh god….so damned _good_…

"HAVOC! Red alert, man! You and Ted---_oh…shit…_" Hughes had stopped dead about four feet from the tub's edge. "God…sorry, guys." He glanced away, flushing, as Teddy climbed off her husband's lap and Havoc rearranged his Speedos.

Remy only laughed and shrugged. "_C'est la vie._ _Pardonez_, _ma petite_."

Teddy chuckled, shoving a breast back into the top of her suit. "Somebody better be dying. I love my uncle, but his timing _sucks_."

At the word _sucks_ Hughes eyes turned back to the pool, just in time to see Jean-Remy climbing out of the water, his brief apparel emphasising rather than concealing the lingering erection that, quite frankly, made Hughes' mouth go suddenly dry. _Christ! Last time I saw something slung like that was on a horse breeding farm---and it had four legs._ Mustang had been generously endowed—he winced a little at the memory when his former lover had given him a little taste of _quid pro quo_ during the that week he spent with Teddy and Taisa before Teddy's cancer surgery. He'd never been topped before and he still wasn't sure if the aftermath of getting rammed by a well-hung partner was equivalent exchange for the ecstacy of the act itself. Roy was impressive. Havoc was…well…_terrifying_.

And _hot_. Damn the man. He had an unconscious, boyish sexiness that was mighty attractive. He undeniably good looking with his tousled blond hair and those sky-blue eyes of his. And that voice—Jesus, it was like having warm velvet stroked against the back of your neck…or lower. And, damn it, he was _straight_. Open-minded but had never sucked a cock in his life and not particularly curious about it.

_Jeeze..first Mustang, now Havoc. Helluva mess, having the same taste in men…_

Ed may have had his knickers in a twist, screaming for them to haul ass back to that stuffy little suite where he and Al had kept them barracaded since they landed in Orlando, but he was damn well gonna stop off at the men's room for a quick wank before Ed locked them in again. Better to take the situation in hand now before Gracia got suspicious…

"Okay, so you're back on the radar again. What do you want to do about it?" Mays glanced from Edward to Alphonse. Ed glanced from Roy to Alphonse to Mays. Alphonse glanced from Mays to Ed—and noted with quiet gratification that Roy and Edward had moved closer together on the bed. _Closing ranks when things get rough around here, just like they should. _

"Huh! You three gonna keep starin' at one another, or are you gonna tell de rest of us what we gonna do?" Jeanne-Marie's thumb flicked at an imaginary flilter tip, and her son could tell by the way she swung her long legs and fidgeted with her hands that she desperately wanted a smoke.

"I don't believe in intuition—" Ed began warily.

"—the hell you don't," Teddy grinned.

"—but I've got a sneaking suspicion that we'd be safer off not taking that flight to Ranamurte tomorrow---_now hold on one goddamn minute_. I am _not_ calling off our wedding." A meaningful glance at Mustang who nodded slightly. "What I am suggesting is that maybe we need to make alternate travel plans."

"Can't," Mays pointed out pragmatically. "Not that many routes to the island. I mean, you used to be able to fly into Jamaica and go by seaplane, but since Jamaica and Ranamurte have had that idiotic war going on, you can kiss that option goodbye."

Everybody looked sober for a while before Gracia piped up. "Ed, don't you have a wedding planner on Ranamuerte---what's his name?

"Paul Youngblood. The one who used to be the steward for American Airlines, right, Brother?" Alphonse smiled with relief. "He's the one setting everything up for the ceremony, right? Why not call him or see if you can reach him online?"

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

_KerrSHPLAAATT_

"HEY! Watch how you swing that thing, mon! You might kill it!"

Paul Youngblood, late of American Airlines and currently serving as Director of Rainbow Weddings of Hope Springs, had at least checked the color of the small, burping amphibian who had bounded off the potted plant in the corner and splatted onto his flat panel monitor before arming himself with a brightly colored souvienir spatula ( item #12985-09, Hope Springs Frog Flipper) and flicking it across the room with disgust.

Paninya dove after it. "White Lipped Green Tree Frog. _Litoria infrafrenata_. Female. Honey, don't kill de merchindise. She could lay 'bout a million eggs—and that's a lot of Toad-stadas and Tadpole Tapas for the grill." Almost reverently she escorted the critter out of an open window where it sprang nimbly into the branches of a nearby jasmine bush. With her frog cuisine restaurant flourishing and the _glitterati_ flocking to her chain of lucrative frog smoothie bars, Paninya was inclined to view any slimy croaker of low toxicity as money in her pocket.

Paul made a small _moue_ of distaste. "Now my screen is all icky! Really, Paninya darling, I'm going to have to insist on window screens for my office! Last week I found a _Dendrobates leucomelas_ perched in my powder room—and it was the same color as my tiger striped swim thong. If I hadn't shaken out my dainties I might have been the first man to die with a frog stuck up his poopie—and that is not how this girl wants to check out!"

Paninya muttered something under her breath that _might_ have been "silly faggot" but Paul was dilgently wiping his monitor clean of any frog slime, real or imagined, just as the phone at his elbow began ringing again. "Rainbow Weddings of Ranamuerte—Paul Youngblood here---ohhh, MISTER ELRIC!"

"_Elric??_" Paninya shot him a sour look. "Oh gawd…not Mister Little Mon again! What the fuck does he want this time—he ready to dive in on that hot man o' his an' he need somebody to butter his sawed off little prick for 'im?"

"_Tais-toi_, sweetheart---no, not you, Mister Edward! One of the staff."

"Staff? He needs a staff, all right, that little troublemaker," Paninya continued _sotto vocce_. "Big ol' broom handle—and I'll be pleased to do the shovin'…"

"Oh no…dearie, not again! Mymymymymy—so dreadful. Don't you just _loathe_ Fox News? Making such ugly implications about _vous_. No, I understand completely---"

Paninya brightened. "He not coming?"

Paul slapped his palm over the receiver. "Those evil shits at Fox News have started making hash of dear Edward's reputation again."

"Ha! He's fuckin' ghosts an' jerkin' off in a haunted house---and he's worried about a reputation? Shit, that was de best laugh I had all year!"

"Darling, this is serious! I'm quite fond of Mister Edward and his dear Mister Mustang. They have a lovely family and a lot of them are flying down for the wedding. Only with this latest brouhaha they aren't keen to get on a plane---Edward is so sweet, but he has these dreadful prosthetic limbs and it's always an ugly scene when he goes through airport security. And with this latest flap about that odious-pardon-me-for-speaking-ill-of-the-dead James McDonald Busbee, I can understand why." He turned back to the receiver. "No, my dear—I quite understand. We need to find another way to get you from Key West to Port Norman. Hmmmm…can you hold just a teensy minute?"

If he'd been paying less attention to the beefcake screensaver by Tom of Finland and more attention to his crafty companion, he would have been suspicious when she offered a suggestion. "Labrys Tours. Got a boat goin' out at sunset tomorrow. Crew comin' up for a weddin'. Spread some green around, might be willing to take them on board."

Paul was delighted and began Google-ing frantically before crowing in triumph. "Ahhh! Yes! So they are. The _Mary Reade. _Captain is Livy Armstrong. You know her?"

"Yeah. She'll do a good job." _Good job o' kickin' his scrawny little ass. That woman puts the B in Beeeyoich!_. _Maybe he winds up with an anchor up his butthole and that tasty Mr Mustang can be the Merry Widower._

",,,,Oh yes, by all means, put Mr Hughes on! We'll get everything straighted out, not to fret, darling…."

_Geeze—don't they know anything about adventures? Rule number one: never split the party_.

The Hughes family was heading back to Charleston to keep an eye on the Battery Carriage House and wait for word from Fritz. Alphonse made a great effort to put on his brave face when in face he was genuinely worried about his grandson. Neigher Win-Sarah or Alfons had heard a word since the family had left message after message for him not to return to Teddy's house on I'on Avenue until the Redcoats declared 'all clear'. A couple of phone calls to Vito Falman had resulted in the Hughes family settling in a charming cottage in Mount Pleasant that was close enough for Mayland to check up on the house every day. Vito promised to keep in daily touch with the family and had let Breda know that the family had gotten sick of being harassed and was on vacation in the islands. Hughes would keep his ear to the ground of any unexplained murders or disappearances in the Charleston area, and while he deeply regretting missing Ed and Taisa's nuptuals, his first and greatest concern was for Gracia and his daughters. He had pleaded with Teddy to let them keep Izumi with them but neither she nor Havoc could be persuaded to let their daughter go. "Besides, if 'Zumi is with us, then Ai-san is with us---and Daddy's never going to admit this but he'd be really lonely without her. You know he's decided she's part of the Eggregore, right? He thinks she's somebody named Mei-Chan, an alchemist he knew back home. No telling if he's right—but I don't see the harm in humoring him."

Edwin had taken Teddy to one side and mentioned the hazards of splitting up. To his surprise, she had taken him seriously. "Okay, go talk to Mays and Gracia. I'm not worried but if it's got you concerned just sit them down and tell 'em."

"Aw, they'll think I'm just a paranoid kid," he balked.

She laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. I think you 've got a point myself, but I also know that we've got friends to watch their backs now. That's how I can let them go."

"I notice you're not sending 'Zoo with them," he pointed out.

"My Cajun would lay down his life to protect her—to protect all of us. Jeanne-Marie's a damn good shot. Ai-san is a very smart lady who won't take risks. And she's got _you_. I trust you to keep her safe, Edwin."

The boy swallowed hard and felt his eyes sting. Every since Envy and Gluttony had snagged the little mp3 recorder with all the revealing information about the Elric family—information they would have never gotten hold of it it hadn't been for his own paranoia—he'd felt lower than whaleshit at the bottom of Charleston Harbor. HE was the one who put them all in danger. HE was the one to blame if anything happened to his dad, Fritz. They were on the run now and it was all his fault. And Aunt Teddy somehow had enough faith in him to trust him to watch and protect her only child. That sleeping part of his psyche—the part that had once been Van Hohenheim of Light—that part that knew her, remembered her as his precious wife and mother of his children—that part stirred and gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and made him all the more determined not to let his family down again.

From thirteen to nine---Edward, Roy, Alphonse, Teddy and Remy, Ai, Jeanne-Marie, Edwin and baby Izumi. It was easier to cram into a rent-a-van and drive all night to reach Key West in time to board _The Mary Reade_. Alphonse had spent a lot of that time on his cell phone in the back of the van. "Coconut telegraph," he smiled cryptically. "I know a lot of locals down there. Trying to get some information about our ship and the captain."

Ed leaned over the back seat and handed his brother a coffee refill from the carafe he kept topping off every time they spotted a Starbuck's. "So? Come up with anything?"

"Errr…not really." Al looked hastily out the window. Actually, he'd heard quite a bit, none of which was likely to please his brother. Labrys was a tour company owned by women, for women. _Exclusively_. Livy Armstrong had crewed on several America's Cup teams in the Eighties. She'd also been arrested for shooting a man in the gonads in Belize, had broken another man's jaw in Trinidad and was accused of somehow yanking up the zipper of a Marine's sea bag—and catching the full length of the man's foreskin in its teeth just before she flung the bag overboard. She'd been active in the women's rights movement in Seventies, and when Teddy heard her name she grinned and nodded. "Interviewed her a couple of years ago. She wrote a terrific book on women pirates—really knows her shit. Not real chatty, but brilliant, and the book went on to earn her a packet. Look forward to seeing her again, not that she'll remember me."

Turns out she did, and to Taisa's reckoning it was a good thing it was without malice; Captain Armstrong was…_rather imposing_. Six feet six if she was an inch, stunningly blonde and if she had been cosplaying as a Valkyrie she'd have to weld a pair of VW classic hubcaps together to provide adequate coverage for her upper torso. Hughed would have fallen to his knees in a puddle of drool and lit incense in homage, Gracia be damned. He was facinated. Ed looked queasy. Teddy looked slightly intimidated as did Ai. But the three heterosexual men in their group were sporting glazed expressions and looked as if their trousers no longer fit them comfortably—especially Alphonse, who had something of a weakness for tall, aggressive blonde women, as evidenced by his choice of wife. As for the kid, Edwin was flushed and sweating. Taisa later told his lover that Edwin reminded him of nothing so much as the Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon—"Jesus, Ed—even if the kid _did_ get her alone, he wouldn't know what the hell to do with her!"

As head of the family, Edward strode forward and offered both his hand and his copies of their reservations. Armstrong ignored them both. One blonde brow crept up above a glacial blue eye as she studied the women in their group. She nodded brusquely to Ai. She stared at Teddy for a long moment before one corner of her mouth lifted a fraction. "_You_. The book review for _Ms._ magazine. It didn't suck."

Then she turned her attention to Jeanne-Marie Havoc.

Spanned the distance between them in three strides and knocked Remy's mother flat on her ass with one hefty slap.

"That's for standing me up, Jeanne. _Welcome aboard_."

………………..TO BE CONTINUED…..


	11. Chapter 11

CNN CENTRAL, ATLANTA

"Old McDonald_ bought the farm_

Eee-I Eee-I_ Ohhhh—"_

_GURGLEROWLLLRGEROWWWLGULG GLUGRK!_ The melodious tenor was rudely interrupted by the rumblings of a tummy with the approximate capacity of a freighter's cargo hold.

"Envy? I'm _starving_! Aren't there any more turkey roll ups? The tray's empty!"

Fresh from makeup prior to his guest segment on _Crossfire_, Envy critically examined his beautifully buffed nails for any imperfections before planting the polished toe of his fine Italian lace ups squarely in his companion's gut. It disgusted him a little—a bit like kicking the hypothetical sack of feces with which Envy frequently compared Gluttony. "Don't call me that, you moron! _Greene_, remember? Nathan Vinson Greene. Corporate heir-apparent to the highly lucrative industry of making covert cocksuckers vomit up the cash while they beat their breasts in guilt even as they beat their—"

"Mr. Greene? Fifteen minutes, sir." The CNN page was a lovely young man, just lovely. _Gluttony could keep his goddamned turkey rolls_, the Sin mused as he admired how the Korean's delectable buttocks appeared all too perfect through his thin chinos. _Like twin scoops of butter-pecan ice cream. I could do with dessert…_ "Was that you singing, sir?"

"Mmmm. Warming up my voice. The pollen down south this time of year does simply dreadful things to me. Silly, isn't it? Songs of childhood and all that."

The page nodded, then regarded the empty sandwich tray with some alarm. "Oh, I'm sorry—did you need anything else to eat?" There had been enough to feed not only Mr. Greene but the two guests on _Crossfire_ and the other featured celebs slated for the _Larry King_ taping. Greene's slender physique gave lie to the idea of him scarfing down the carbs in private moments. His companion, on the other hand—

"Mr. Grossman is not well. Low blood sugar and all that. Gets a bit peckish." Mr. Greene jerked his head towards the small collapsible cooler near his elbow. "Have to keep him from keeling over, but we're out of snacks for him. If…you could be so kind…?"

The page stared at the epicene figure crammed into a Versace suit and shivered a little. "I'll call down to catering and see what we can do." He glanced nervously at his watch. "I'll be down to fetch you to the sound stage in about ten minutes. Have a good show, Mr. Greene."

"Will do." The page kept staring intently at the homunculus. "Was there…anything else?"

The young man flushed and stammered a little. "N-no. _No_. It's just that…well…I'm sure you hear all the time how you look so much like….you know."

"Johnny Depp?"

"Well…yeah."

A low, sensual chuckle. "Mmmm….yes. Do you…_like_…Johnny Depp?"

The page flushed and nodded before shooting out of the door as if the conversation had taken an intimate turn and he wasn't quite sure how to react. After all, this man, this Nathan Greene, was appearing to discuss the radical theory of 'curing' homosexuality and the new reports suggesting that the famous author, James Busbee McDonald, hadn't died of a heart attack on the island of Ranamuerte but had actually been murdered. Greene was pimping a tell-all expose for _Vanity Fair_ that suggested that McDonald had been slain by one of the guests at the Hope Springs resort. It promised to be a bombshell interview on _Crossfire_, and he was appearing in the second half of _Larry King Live!_

Envy leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, regarding Gluttony with mild amusement. "Anything left in that cooler of yours?"

"Wing and a drumstick."

"Well, you'd best finish them off before that pretty little piece comes back. We might need to make room for fresh supplies."

The 'drumstick' was pretty much done for—not much meat on the bone. The 'wing' portion was gobbled down so fast it was hardly tasted. "Owwwwie! I hurt my tooth!" Gluttony pouted. He spat out two teeth, filmed with blood, and something shiny.

"Gimme that." The gold was unharmed, its Flamel crest intact. Envy grinned maliciously and tucked it into his pocket. "Never know when it might come in handy…"

THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE, CHARLESTON

"Mrs. Hughes? Good to hear from you again. How are you and your family?"

"Oh, we're fine, Mr. Falman. Mays has settled me and the girls here on the Battery. He's going on to the island. He so wanted to be there for Taisa's wedding but was trying to put our safety first. I know Edward and Taisa told him it was fine…but Mays was just so disappointed, even though he never said a word. So we compromised—I'm staying here and he's going on. "

_What kind of insane—_"Are you all right, Mrs. Hughes?" Falman felt a very real sense of anger at the thought of the west coast attorney leaving his wife and children behind. He'd come to know Mustang well enough to know that Roy wasn't going to be offended if his long time friend had to miss out on his nuptials.

Worse than that, Fritz Elric hadn't turned up yet. They'd located his ex-wife, Christine, getting swacked in some dive in Pensacola, Florida called The Devil's Nest. The way she had herself wound around that man Dorochet reminded him of a bitch in heat flipping her tail at a junkyard dog. She didn't know where Fritz was and frankly didn't care about her son. "I don't want anything to do with that family. He's close to his Aunt Tricia—she's his godmother. Anything goes wrong, she'll take him in. Now, beat it, mac!"

Roy had called him before the family sailed out from Key West. "Mays and Gracia and the girls are heading back to Charleston. Can you find them a place to stay until the house is safe?" But it seemed like Hughes just couldn't stay away from the Elric family.

"Please, allow me to take you and the girls to dinner tonight. I'd feel better if you had someone watching your back, at least until we know where Fritz Elric is."

Beneath that placid smile, Gracia Evans Hughes was _furious_. How dare Mays run off and leave them like that! She'd emailed Teddy, who promised to knock some sense into Hughes—"with a two-by-four if necessary"—and send him packing back where he belonged. Here they were, not fully out of danger, dear Fritz still missing and that awful Envy creature still slinking around…and Mays just upped and left her behind, using the children as pretext…yet _again_.

"Why, that would be just lovely, Mr. Falman, but really, it's too much for you to bother—"

"It's no bother. And it's Vito, please."

"Ah…well…of course. We'd love to join you…_Vito_."

"Mommmmmy! You smell pretty," Elycia observed, watching as her mother brushed out her short brown hair and spritzed herself lightly with White Diamonds, a scent Mays always asked her to wear when he was feeling a bit frisky. _You can't fool me, Mays Hughes_, Gracia thought angrily. _It's not Teddy. She's so in love with Remy she doesn't see anybody else. If your eye is roving, who the hell is it??_

AIRPORT HILTON HOTEL, MIAMI

His hands were trembling as he cleaned them in the airport lavatory at Miami/Orlando International Airport. He shoved the denim work shirt back in his carry on.

It still smelled good, like Remy had just taken it off. _It's not going to happen. I can't do that to Ted—and besides, Jean Remy Havoc's never sucked a dick in his life. Still…_

Still _what_? What did he hope to accomplish by hounding after Teddy's husband? Or was it something more—something he'd been denying for over ten years? That was when he and Taisa had spent that week with Teddy before her cancer surgery and the three of them had briefly resumed their triad. One night Taisa and Teddy had ganged up on him, teasing that, after all those years of topping everyone in sight, it was finally Mayland's turn to get a taste of what he'd dished out for so long. Mustang—no, it definitely wasn't forced or coerced. Little bastard had _charmed _his way straight up May's backside. Hughes had been _scared_, damn it. Scared to loose control, even more than he was scared of being hurt.

And it had been _good._ Un-be-fucking-lievable. Okay, the aftermath had been a bit of a bitch, but still—

It had happened only once, but Mays found that since he'd met Jean Havoc he couldn't put the idea out of his mind, especially after seeing him get out of the hot tub with an erection of Kentucky Derby proportions.

All right. It wouldn't be Remy…but Hope Springs was a gay Mecca now. Surely there had to be somebody there…some man that wasn't getting hitched and was of a mind to pound the Piledriver straight out of his mind with ecstasy…

Soon as the gate agent told him of the delay, he rebooked his flight, checked back into the Airport Hilton, threw back a few scotches and hailed a taxi. English wasn't the driver's first language so it took a couple of tries and a few rude in-and-out fist and finger gestures before the driver nodded and headed off for the seedier side of town. "_Homosex?_" the driver asked.

"Uhhhh…no. Not men. Just a book shop. You know, porno."

"Porno? Oh, si! Pink plastic pussy for you. Amigo?"

"Ahhh….si. Yes. Something like that. I _really_ miss my wife, you know?"

_"Molded from Colt Commando's Actual Penis! Amazingly life-like CyberSkin—Free Bonus Sample of ID WET Lube and Velvet Pouch Included. Suction Cup Base for Hands Free Action! (requires four C batteries)_. There was something oddly familiar about the face on the box. Colt Commando had been the winner of countless adult industry awards for such distinguishing career milestones as "Best Moneyshot", "Hottest Blowjob" and "Best Solo Performer". Must have been in his forties but that eye patch lent him a piratical air that made Mays' cock twitch with interest.

"You're gonna need more lube with this," the proprietor cautioned. "I'd suggest maybe Seka's Anal-Eze. Got some benzocaine so you'll be able to sit down after you ride."

Mayland Alexander Hughes gave him a frosty glare. "This is for my girlfriend. I have to go on a business trip."

"Oh, _please_, Mary! You think I can't spot a Bottom a mile away?"

Mays mouth went dry with panic. "Ummm…is it that obvious?"

The young man scanned him with cynical blue eyes and then snorted with amusement. "Those shoes were a dead giveaway. Who dresses you when Carson isn't around to _juzzzsh_ up your sleeves?"

"Crap." Why did Gracia ever suggest that he start watching _Queer Eye_?

Eleven meaty inches of CyberSkin bounced off the doors of the armoire that neatly concealed the flat screen TV. Mays pushed himself up off his knees and cursed as his right elbow slid into a puddle of champagne from the split of Mumm's that had topped out of the bottle rack in the door when the mini-fridge flipped over. The door had broken off its hinges but the suction cup base remained stubbornly attached even though the business end of the vibe had torn off, owing to its construction of the softer, easily damaged CyberSkin.

The Anal-Eze reeked like that cheap cherry air freshener shit that you found in taxis on the wrong side of town. He'd done his best to prepare for the worst but when he licked the base of the sex toy and slapped it experimentally on the door of the mini-fridge he had counted on being able to peel the damned thing off again. When it stuck fast, he considered his options and decided _what the hell_, dropped trou, lubed up, lined up as best as he could and attempted docking maneuvers. His aim was off—the damn thing got trapped under his balls and with his thighs snared in his Jockey shorts he began to buck and flail until he accidentally kicked the door off the fridge, covering the carpet with an expensive assortment of wines and gourmet snackables that no sane traveler would waste money on.

It occurred to him for a horrible minute that his wife must be shoving straight pins right up the backside of a tiny Hughes poppet in revenge for those Comcast Pay-Per-View gay porn flicks he vowed he'd never ordered at the hotel—raising righteous hell with the concierge and demanding said items be taken off his bill.

He was right about the revenge but wrong about the poppet. Gracia was the one being penetrated, yodeling in delight as Detective Vito Falman enthusiastically demonstrated that quiet, bookish gentlemen are often reading more than Shakespeare and _The Wall Street Journal_. Falman, in particular, had a keen interest in world literature, _The Kama Sutra_ being an excellent example of where his interests lay…

ABOARD THE _MARY READE_

Captain Livy Armstrong spanned the distance between them in three strides and knocked Remy's mother flat on her ass with one hefty slap.

"That's for standing me up, Jeanne. _Welcome aboard_."

Three things happened in very rapid succession:

Jean-Remy Havoc took two steps towards the Captain, fingers already curled into a fist that had never been raised in anger towards any woman, including the one that stabbed him, quite literally, in the back.

Jeanne-Marie Havoc grabbed her son by the ankle and screamed, "Stay out of this, _imbecille!_"

Edwin Hohenheim Elric, aged fourteen years, dove at the Captain of the _Mary Reade_ and punched her so hard in the jaw she stepped back two paces and wiped a trickle of blood as it dripped down her chin. He'd split her lip, and judging from the ferocious expression on his face as he stood before her, panting and wild eyed, he was going to worse if she made one move closer towards his…_nanny_.

It was, as Edward might have observed under less tense circumstances, "…so quiet you could have heard a fish fart." Nobody moved.

Armstrong spat out a mouthful of blood, then snorted with laughter. "Looks like the little _pisher_ has some hair on his balls. Good. _Good_. Rest easy, son. I don't make it a point to piss off a woman who's a better shot than I am."

She leaned down and offered her arm to Jeanne-Marie. "Get up, old woman. And put that heater away."

Edwin stared at Havoc's mother. A snub nosed .38 had appeared in her hand, pointed right at the Captain's head. "Ma'am—you aren't going to shoot her for slapping you, are you?"

"For slapping me? _Non_. But if she'd touched you I'd have given her the third eye of prophesy." Shoving the pistol back in her bag she accepted the Captain's hand and climbed to her feet. "Wasn't my fault, Livy. Oakley never showed up. That's why I never called you that night. Your woman wasn't woman enough to treat you right."

"And you didn't see fit to tell me…?" the Captain demanded irritably.

"Because when you get dumped you get drunk. You get drunk you get to smashing furniture. I could see you putting your fist right through my brand new Wurlitzer jukebox and breaking chairs over the heads o' any blonde that pissed you off, cher. Couldn't risk the insurance. Cost me a fortune, last time you got left behind. Figure to give you a few months to cool out, _non_?"

Captain Amstrong merely lifted her shoulders and turned away, already disinterested.

_Your woman wasn't woman enough to treat you right._ Those words dented Edwin's libido faster than watching Old Lady Havoc get busted in the chops. "She…she's a…" he swallowed hard over the word he brain had never associated with anything hotter than Ellen Degeneres or Melissa Etheridge—not bad but they didn't exactly crank his engine. "She…doesn't like…._dick?_" he spluttered to his aunt.

The Captain paused. "I like penises, " she qualified, not bothering to turn around. " I just don't like them on _men."_

_From the Alchemical Journal of T. Roy Mustang…_

As I can recall, I've only beaten the shit out of Mays Hughes on two occasions. The first, needless to say, was upon the occasion of the campus radio broadcast when he Outed me to the entire student body at Berkeley. Teddy and I chased him half way across campus before we caught up with him. We broke Teddy's camera tripod over his head and by the time he came to on the doorstep of the Kappa frat house (stark naked with anti Kappa slogans painted all over his bare arse) he'd come to the conclusion that Roy Mustang Is Not Someone To Be Crossed Or Pissed Off. That, as they say, is Rule Number One.

Rule Number Two—Do Not Abuse, Malign or Harass The Friends And Lovers of Roy Mustang. Maybe I can't snap my fingers and incinerate people any more but I can damn well make them wish I had. Which is why Hughes earned himself a black eye when he blithely suggested that the Berkeley Yacht Club could use Edward as a convienent anchor at the next regatta. While I reserve the priveledge of poking fun at my lover whenever it suits me—or whenever his oversized ego needs a good stomping—I'll be goddamned if I let others take a whack at him. Especially if I know it's something that would really hurt him.

Like his fear of deep water, for instance.

He can't swim. You've figured that out, yes? There's not a damn thing remotely bouyant about automail. He will not willingly enter water that is deeper than his knees—about ankle deep for the rest of us. Alphonse and Winry had a pool in their house in San Francisco. Ed wouldn't willingly go near it, not even with an army of nieces, nephews and friends begging him to come join the fun. And he will only go into an _onsen_ if the pool is shallow and I am there to make damn sure he gets out.

I give him the devil about anything and everything—but not about drowning.

Alphonse tells me that he had to stay drunk during much of the voyage from London to New York during the war. Al says that when he was sober he was wild-eye'd, jumpy and snarling at everybody. Al explained to the ship's captain that his brother was a double amputee who couldn't' swim and the captain kindly offered the comfort of a vist from the ship's chaplain. "I told him it would be a very nice thing for him to visit," Al confessed.

"A chaplain?? Why the hell did you do that?" I demanded.

"Because Brother got so furious he forgot to be scared. I think the chaplain understood, because he kept after Brother the whole trip and Ed ended up chasing him around the decks, screaming that God was dead and threatening to shove a hymnal sideways up the chaplain's backside."

Finding a chaplain to rattle Ed's chains aboard the _Mary Reade_ was pretty unlikely,although there was probably a High Priestess of some denomination among the all-female crew and passengers. As for our captain, I had a real worry that she might have dangled my lover over the rails as a lark and chided him for cowardice, so none of us dared breathe a word to him. I saw Teddy go over, slip her arm around his waist and whisper to him. He shook his head, so she kissed his cheek and walked away, looking concerned.

Finally she and Remy came over, on pretext of bringing Izumi over for a good night kiss. "Edo's a wreck," they told me. "Can you distract him? Otherwise we'll have to get him snockered."

"Not a wise idea in present company," Remy advised. "Although, if all else fails, _Maman_ could go over and pick a fight with him—"

"—I'll see to him," I assured them.

The Keys were well behind us, the sun was below the yardarm and the cook had fired up a propane grill and cranked up the boom box. Strings of colored lights twinkled between the masts as the women began disappearing below decks in twos and threes to slip into something more comfortable for diner. A generous buffet was hauled up from the galley—great tubs of ice were spilling over with chilled seafood and beer while a matched set of suntanned twins took turns cranking out frosty libations for the passengers.

I ordered a gin and tonic with extra lime for myself and a neat shot of Napoleon brandy for my other half, who stood so still and rigid at the railing he might have been mistaken for some sort of figurehead had he sported better cleavage. He took the glass without a word, downing it so fast I'm not sure he tasted it, let alone swallowed it. I was about to make some snide observation about it when I noticed the film of beaded sweat on his upper lip and the fine tremor in his hand as he passed the empty glass back to me.

Parking my gin to one side, I stepped quietly up behind him and pulled him into my arms, resting my chin comfortably on the top of his head, that damnable antenna of his tickling my nose in the brisk wind off the starboard bow. He didn't budge from the rail, but there was a barely perceptible relaxing of his shoulders and spine. "Thanks…_Shithead_."

From that stubborn son of a bitch, that was an outright declaration of undying gratitude and devotion, and that hard knot of cold fury and resentment and…yes, damn it, jealousy over Heiderich…began to melt as he gradually relaxed against my chest.

"If the ship goes down, you've got nothing to worry about, " I whispered softly into his hair. "You're so full of hot air you'll stay afloat until the Coast Guard finds you."

"Fuck you," he whispered back, hands covering mine as I began gently stroking his chest and shoulders.

"Name the day—or night." God, after so damn long it felt good to hold him. Since our quarrel I'd been physically uncomfortable, like something had carved out a deep hollow inside my chest with a blunt, rusty chisel. Nothing I could do would ease that sick, empty sensation. It wasn't hunger—not even physical pain that I could identify. But that discomfort vanished altogether as soon as he leaned back and pressed his small, slight body into mine. _So that was the problem all along_, I finally admitted to myself. _I had an Ed-shaped hole in my heart_.

"Don't suppose a boatload of Lesbians would be bothered by two men slow dancing together, do ya think?" He sounded like himself again.

"Don't even think about leading," I cautioned, turning him around. He was grinning up at me with that same old blend of malice and tenderness that is the very essence of my lover.

"You lead now," he smirked. "I'll _top_ later."

MIAMI-ORLANDO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, GATE 5

"Yeah, honey, the flight was delayed, but everything's fine. And the flight's jam-packed, so it's a good thing you and the girls stayed home." Hughes gingerly slurped from a foam cup of Viennese Cinnamon cappuccino, trying not to burn his lips. Damn _venti_ had cost him nearly eight bucks so he was determined to finish the drink before boarding the flight to Ranamuerte. "And I swear," he tucked his cell phone closer under his stubbly chin, "I'm the straightest man on the whole damn flight." Almost as soon as he'd said it, his asshole twitched, a painful reminder of his ill-fated attempt to roger himself with the Colt Commando cyberskin dildo in the hotel that afternoon. Said device was in his checked baggage, along with a faded _Foghat_ t-shirt he'd worn in his freshman year and still fit him reasonably well, a pair of his tightest jeans and his best suit for Roy's wedding. Oh, and the skimpiest Speedo he could find in the airport mall. He'd eyed himself in the dressing room with no small satisfaction. "Still lookin' good, pardner," he'd told his reflection, slapping his six-pack abs with pride.

"…soooo, I'll give your love to Ed and Roy, okay? Bye-bye, sweetie! Call you soon as we land!"

"What….is that…_smell???_" There was this odd…well…_funk…_ that seemed to slap Hughes aggressively across the face soon as he boarded the Aire Carribe AirBus. Something slightly…_bestial_. Something that reminded him of the pungent breezes that wafted around the elephant exhibit at the San Diego Zoo and made Elycia pinch her little nose and demand to be taken to see the meerkats again. His seat, 14E, was dead center of the center aisle, not the roomy bulkhead he'd requested. He'd tried to argue with the air hostess about it and was given a stony look. "Keep it moving, mac, " she'd growled, cracking her knuckles for emphasis.

The floor of the cabin seemed to cling to the soles of his Italian loafers, and when he surveyed his seat with obvious disgust the hostess informed him this was the only flight heading out to the island this week. "You're lucky we had cancellations—otherwise you'd be shit out of luck. Now _sit…down_."

"_I'd put paper on the seat if I were you."_ Fifty-megawatt eyes in an angular face. Cheeky grin and some hellishly expensive cologne he couldn't identify. He had a greatcoat—crisp and military of fine gray wool, draped over his arm and with the other hand offered Hughes a copy of the _Pontypridd & Llantrisant Observer_ as he checked 14F against his boarding pass. Mays took an interested whiff of scent and pheromones, his cock stiffening slightly in appreciation of the stranger's good looks.

"Paper?? Fuck that, mate. I want that bleedin' seat Sani-Wrapped for my protection. God knows what could squirm up me wee virginal bumhole if I park it on the upholstery." A slim Black man claimed the seat on May's other side, a perfect tumble of tight sooty curls bouncing around a cherubic face lit with an ironic grin.

"Now, Nigel—it's not worse than that dreadful bus station in Queens---good lord, is that _you_, Mayland?" The dignified bearing of the ancient, elegant man in seat 14C belied his many years, but Dr. Simon Rogers eyes hadn't lost a glimmer of their keenness—or their kindness. "How fortuitous! Roy told us you'd be skipping the festivities—oh, where are my manners? Nigel, this is Mayland Alexander Hughes. He's the solicitor for the Elric family and has been our Roy's chum since they were schoolboys back at Berkeley. Mays, I want you to meet Roy's nephew. Dr. Nigel Warmamaloo Rogers, from New South Wales."

"Good on yer,Hughey."

"Er…that's _Hughes_."

"Yeah, whatever, mate."

"Ah…so…you and Roy…?"

"Never met the feller. He and me dad Jon are the family bastards, back from the Ol' Colonel's days of fuckin' a girl in every port in the Pacific. Family not keen on him, his mum bein' a Jap, 'cos of the war and all. Heh. Like they don't mind that my grandmum was Tribal. Ol' Colonel Mustang got around, eh? But when Uncle Simon set his mind to goin' to this wedding in the ass end of nowhere and him bein' two days older than the wrinkled oldfeller hangin' between God's knees, I says to meself, 'Hey Nige—be a decent bloke an' get the old man to the church an' home again." He nodded fondly at the old doctor. "Uncle Roy was like a son to him, he was, so I'm along to do the donkeywork and to sort out the muck bits of this excercion."

_Ol' Colonel Mustang got around, eh? _Mays' tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. He took in Dr. Nigel's features, his disarming smile, his obvious flair for sarcasm. His mind did some swift calculations and when the tally was told the figures didn't comfort him.

"…_his mom bein' a Jap….my grandmum was Tribal…Ol' Colonel Mustang got around, eh?"_

Shit.

"Dr. Rogers…about Roy's dad—"

Dr. Nigel Warmamaloo Rogers smirked as he leaned back into his seat, thumbing open a copy of _The New England Journal Of Pediatrics_. "No worries, Huey. So the old man's family ain't too proud of us half-breeds. Ol' Colonel liked his dark meat and his sushi, reckon. I'm all right, sonny jim. Me dad was a good bloke. Had a good life away from all the rat bastards back in Blackpool. Uncle Simon," he regarded the old man warmly, "he was the only one who gave a shit about Roy or me dad. Dad passed on years ago, never met his own brother. I figger us bastards ought to stick together,reckon? Nobody lives forever, y'know."

Hughes was digesting this just as a wave of whispers rolled over the aisles…

_God…it's…him…Can't be! Why would he be traveling to Ranamurte?_

Same lank brown hair. Same shades.

"Holy shit—that's Johnny Depp!" Hughes dug in his pocket for his cell phone to get a snap for Gracia, who had loved the actor since _Benny and Joon_.

"No tattoo with his son's name on the forearm." The blue eyed hunk to Hughes' right drawled casually. "My lover's mad for him. Good thing I left him back in Cardiff to mind the store or he'd be behaving like an idiot right about now. But he'll have more fun staying…." He aprraised Hughes like a slab of raw Kobe beef. His smile sent sparks through Mays' shorts. "And I'll get to make _new friends_." He offered a well manicured hand. "I'd buy you a drink if I knew your name."

"M-Mays. I'm an attorney from the west coast."

"Call me Jack. I run a private research institute in Cardiff, Wales."

"What kind of institute?" Hughes inquired.

"Mmmmm…_time management_."

_ABOARD THE MARY READE_…

Captain Armstrong had hinted broadly that the Elric clan would be set up for supper in her small, private dining quarters below decks once the festivities kicked into high gear. And, truthfully, it hadn't been a bad idea. The Captain's Mess featured a table large enough to seat the whole family, and a charming Cuban woman named Milagra stuffed Alphonse and his family with an amazing array of Cuban-Carribean dishes, such as _frijoles negros con arroz_, _pastellitos, congri _ and delicious _flan_, dripping with warm _dulce con leche_, which left Alphonse scrapping up the last creamy dabs from his plate so eagerly that Ai inquired if she could get the recipe for him, which made the younger Elric brother flush right up to his eyebrows.

The Havocs were both somewhat fluent in Spanish and began negotiating for more recipes for the menu at _L'heure Bleu_. Edwin glanced up and noted that his aunt Teddy was eyeing him with gentle concern. "Get enough to fill you up?"

"What? Oh, yeah. It was great."

"Not feeling queasy, are you? Good. Edo's the only Elric who doesn't sail well. "

"That's 'cause of his arm—"  
"Shhhh. Not here," she cautioned. "But yeah. He's flown supersonic and never blew his lunch. Even rode the Vomit Comet at NASA and came out without a wobble. " She shuddered. "Brrrr! If it had been me, I'd have thrown up everything, even my shoelaces! He flew supersonic even before Chuck Yeager—bugged the hell out of Edo that he and …_Herr Heiderich_…couldn't ever take the credit for what they did in Munich."

Edwin nodded. Edward had been strapped into a rocket plane and shot through the Gateway when Ed's German lover attempted to send Ed home to rejoin his family and friends back home in Amestris. "So if he gets so seasick, what's he doing on deck with all those…._women_?"

"Spending a little quality time with Taisa. They haven't had much privacy since we left Charleston." She was smiling now, imagining her uncle and best friend topside under the stars, probably twining their bodies together in a hot salsa or Argentine tango. _Dance with him, _she'd suggested to her uncle. "_Dancing is fucking standing up, right? Words get in the way with you two. Don't tell him you love him. Show him with your body."_

"_Christ, Teddy! I can't believe that's coming out of your mouth! What the hell's gotten into you?"_

"_Jean Havoc's gotten into me—and taught me a little about how important it is not to let love slip away. Don't fuck this up, Edo—please!"_

The ship's radio crackled to life. "ATTENTION—ATTENTION ALL HANDS. THIS IS THE CAPTAIN. THE _MARY READE_ HAS NOW OFFICIALLY CROSSED INTO _INTERNATIONAL WATERS_. "

Alphonse stared at the speakers. "Is there some sort of significance to that, Ms. Milagra?"

"_Si_, Senor Elric. It means the dancing is about to start." She glanced pointedly at the three men around the table. "Ladies only, _comprende_?" She offered fine Cuban cigars to the adults. Jeanne-Marie snatched one up and lit it up defiantly. Havoc shook his head. "_Ma_ _Petite Ange_, she will not kiss me if I light up," and jammed a carrot disconsolately into the corner of his mouth to a chorus of laughter around the table.

…which was abruptly interrupted by _drums_. "What the hell—?"

A loud ululation ripped though the ship, accompanied by cheers and whistles. Teddy blanched, dropped her fork. "Ohhh…shit, I didn't even think of—_EDWIN, don't get out of your seat!_"

A moment later Edward and Taisa shot through the cabin door like their rectums were on fire, slamming it behind them. Milagra cackled wickedly as she excused herself.

Edward slumped to the table theatrically. "_My eyes…oh, god…my eyes…"_

Mustang patted his lover's back sympathetically. "Come on, Edward," he smirked. "Get a hold of yourself. You've seen naked women before. "

"Not…like…_that_."

"Okay, well, grated, _most_ women don't paint their nipples blue and dance a naked conga around the mainmast while waving strap on _dildoes_ at people!"

"Not _people_, Ed. Just _you._"

"You son of a—"

A crisp chord was struck on an acoustic guitar, each note ringing clearly down the companionway. "_Annnd the fullll moooon---is a vagiiina spread wiiiide, so full of possibilities…"_

Ed's hand crept towards one of the carving knives. "_Seppuku_," he grated through clenched teeth. "generally requires the use of a _tanto_. In a pinch, a Henckels should adequately—"

"ED!" Alphonse snatched the blade out of his brother's hand.

Jeanne-Marie grinned at Mustang. "Cher, your man look like he about to be done in by estrogen poisoning. 'Spect you got de antidote, no?"

"Daddy and Edwin can squeeze in with us. Why don't you gentlemen go take a shower and go rehearse for your wedding night?" Teddy offered.

An expectant silence hung over the dinner table. Roy said nothing. Finally, Edward reached for cold Corona from the ice box. "We're saving it for the wedding, actually."

"Right. Ed wants that white dress of his to actually _mean_ something," Roy purred, patting his partner condescendingly on the shoulder, "so he's keeping his legs crossed until the wedding night…"

. Ed slammed the Corona long neck into his lover's midsection with an ominous growl and stomped off down the hall for the showers, pointedly ignoring the whoops of laughter that followed his retreat.

Edward was rolled up like a shrimp burrito in his blanket. An antenna of bright hair poked out of the folds, catching the light when Taisa opened the curtains to let the moonlight into the tiny cabin He'd told Al and Edwin to stay in the cabin, 'to protect Ed's virtue'. Still, after Roy had showered and returned to their cabin he stared at the wad of blanket huddled miserably on the top bunk and chuckled softly under his breath. _Bless you, Jeanne-Marie. I would never have thought of staging a naked conga line to distract Ed from how terrified he is of crossing deep water._ Jeanne had cooked up the suggestion, knew the Captain well enough to arrange things and Teddy had managed to keep the rest of them below decks for maximun effect. _At least you weren't thinking about drowning. _

"Move over. God, you're such a bed hog. How am I supposed to share a bunk with you if you take your half in the middle?"

A metal hand wormed its way to the surface, middle finger first.

"I love you too."

The shrimp burrito grumbled, unrolled itself, captured its intended victim and rerolled itself. A bit less tidy—a great deal more content.

Below in the opposite bunk, Edwin gingerly pulled his fingers from his ears. This had been what he had been most afraid of—what nauseated and scared him so. Them. Doing IT. Only…only they weren't. The sound of quiet kisses, a few contented murmurs and then they were still.

Aphonse leaned down, the moonline liming his face. "It's all right," he told his great grandson. "It's only love. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Okay. G'night, sir." Pause. "G-goodnight, Edo. Goodnight, Taisa."

"'Night, Edwin."

"See you in the morning, kid."

The shrimp burrito in the top rack began to snore gently.

_Only love?_

He'd loved his mother, Christine. She abandoned him and his father.

He'd love his father, Fritz…and now he was gone, too.

He'd loved Aunt Teddy—and now she had Izumi, she still somehow managed to have room in her heart to hold him. He loved Uncle Jean—and, yes, even the Old Swamp Witch. And Great Alphonse had never let him down. He swallowed hard against a burning in his throat and risked a glance towards the snoring bundle of blankets and arms. Edo's head was pillowed on Mustang's shoulder. Both of them were smiling as they slept. His heart opened a little wider. "Only love? Okay. I'll take your word for it." And he let the purr of the engines lull him into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

Milagra had offered to share her cabin with Ai-san, Jeanne-Marie and little Izumi so that Teddy and Havoc could have a little privacy and sleep in. "I am missing _mis nietos_, my grandchildren," she explained. "This is a good life, but it takes me from _mi falmilia, mi corazon_, " she laid her hand over her heart. "I am only too glad to help out with the little one."

Eight bells into middle watch she slipped down the to the galley to warm up a fresh bottle and to put out fresh coffee for the women coming in on the first bell of morning watch, about half an hour from now. She'd checked her ice supply, counted her eggs, sampled a bit of the morning's coffee cake—Captain Armstrong had a mighty sweet tooth—and headed back to the cabin, planning to feed, change and settle Izumi back into her travel bed before heading topside and taking breakfast orders from the watch crew.

The man in blue was blocking her access to the companionway, as if he had exited her cabin and was heading topside like the rest of morning watch. "Excuse me, Senor Mustang," she nodded. "I'm bringing the baby her breakfast."

"Carry on." He saluted her crisply. Then he marched _straight through her_.

Her own mug of hot _café_ smashed to the deck as she crossed herself. _"Jesu, hijo de Maria!"_ she gasped.

He glanced cooly over his shoulder. "_Hardly_." He evaporated like mist as she slumped to the deck making strangled, confused noises, not altogether certain if she had been visited by an angel or demon.

"Would somebody kindly tell me what the _fuck_ is up with these people this morning?" Ed slammed down his coffee mug, splashing cold coffee all over his suitcase. The whole Elric party had been rousted out of their beds and herded into the Captain's Mess, along with all their belongings. The door had been locked, damn it, and Armstrong had given no explanation, other than it was a 'security issue'. Food and drink had been left for them, along with word that the would be docking around 10 am, local time. "Goddamn it, Mays—answer the phone! That's what I pay you for!" He kept jabbing at his iPhone and swearing under his breath. "Who the fuck does she think she is, locking us up like a bunch of criminals?"

"I didn't do anything," Edwin muttered defensively.

"For _once_," Ed snapped back

"Ed! That's not fair," Al protested. "Besides, I was up before the rest of you. He's been here all night."

"I was with Teddy," Havoc stated firmly. "And Maman and Ai-san were with Milagra in her cabin—"

"Speakin' of whom, she was supposed t' bring Izumi her breakfast early this mornin'. She woke us all up, wet and cryin' an' pissed off wid hunger, yeah. Our _petite_ didn't get no breakfast 'til now." Indeed, the baby was in a foul temper, squawking iritably between gulps from her bottle in spite of Teddy's cuddling and soothing words.

"Got 'im!" Ed gestured for silence. "Hughes! Are you—good. Get your ass down to the docks by ten—get Paninya to arrange a van for us. No, I'm not letting that Armstrong bitch give us a ride in—crazy Amazon has us corralled in the mess like a bunch of fuckin' cattle! No, I _don't_ know why—but you're sure as hell going to find out and sue her ass right back to the Age of Piracy!"

"You're sure about this, Milagra? You not just nippin' the 141?"

"No, _amiga_. I saw him. No mistake. _Un zombi camina entre nosotros, mi hermana._ You must be careful, Paninya. You will believe when you see the _nino_. The Cajun cannot be the father of that child. The _zombi_ Mustang must have fathered it on the Elric woman. And the _pequeno hombre, el enojado_, the angry little man—such strength he has. When they were moved to the mess, he tore the knob right off the door to his cabin and put his fist straight through a steel bulkhead! They are dangerous!"

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

Hughes had torn out of the room and down to reception, leaving his Blackberry, his room key and his underwear in Suite 410. His companion rang for room service, ordering a pot of coffee—"embargo be damned, just get it"—bacon and eggs, a ham steak with red-eye gravy and a copy of the _New York Times_. While waiting he rang Cardiff, gratified to learn that everything was running smoothly. "See no Weevil, hear no Weevil," he'd been told. "Good. I've got a feeling I'm going to have my hands full with the Elric mess." The _newest_ Elric mess, he'd been reminded. There was that nasty business with Echart and Hess in Munich back in 1920's. He'd known Hohenheim, of course. _Everybody_ knew Hohenheim, from Hitler to Churchill. Why he played both sides of the war was anybody's guess, but he'd been clear about one thing—downright obsessed, if you wanted the truth of it:

All Hohenheim Elric had wanted in the 1920's was to send his son back _home_.

"The Twenty-First Century. That's when it all begins." He rubbed his face wearily. "Rifts and Gates. _Damn_. It's enough to put me off my breakfast." He spotted the Colt Commando dildo, lying spent from the night's frolic. Hughes would have to come back for it. He imagined that the Elrics didn't have a clue their solicitor had such depraved proclivities—that could be used to his advantage should Hughes be unwilling to spill the beans about why a man named Denny Brosh had been poking around certain very old stones outside Cardiff, as well as a cave outside Disneyworld and a certain mountain passage on this isle of poision frogs where the "love that dares not speak its name" never shut the hell up.

He jabbed at his laptop, retrieving the file. "Elric—Hohenheim. Killed in Munich, 1923. Elric—Edward, born approx. 1899 in Risembool, Amestris. Arrived in London on the night of…"

…TO BE CONTINUED….


	12. Chapter 12

ABOARD THE MARY READE, currently clearing customs at Port Norman, Ranamuerte…

After being rousted out of bed and barricaded in the Captain's Mess for five hours, Captain Armstrong's mate stuck her head in and advised the Elric wedding party that the Captain had 'generously' agreed that Ms. Ai and Ms. Tricia and Mrs. Havoc would be permitted to take baby Izumi to the showers to clean and change the child. They would, of course, be under armed escort. "What the _FUCK??_" Jeanne-Marie Havoc exploded. "You pointin' rifles aroun' my gran'_bebe_? What—you t'ink our _petite_ be a danger to dis rust bucket?"

Alphonse rose from his seat, his large, bony hands flexing an unspoken warning. "With all due respect to the _Captain_," he growled softly, "this is an outrage. We are paid passengers—" he glanced swiftly at Edward, who nodded, naming the absurd sum of cash that changed hands so that the Elrics could get out of US ahead of Envy, who most certainly would have brought the whole damned plane down and killed all the passengers if that meant he had a good chance of killing off his detested younger brothers—not to mention Teddy, Edwin and little Izumi. "We've covered our fare. We are documented, have all our passports and shots. We've done our best not to disturb the ladies on this ship. Everything was fine, right up until you forced us out of our cabins and locked us up." Two steps closer and the woman had to crane her neck slightly to hold eye contact. Generally his hazel-bronze eyes were mild and kindly, but they had narrowed in a manner that caused Ed and Teddy to exchange knowing glances and move unobtrusively to the farthest corners of the room. It took a lot of provocation to get Alphonse Elric riled up—and Captain Armstrong's antics had pushed him dangerously close to the edge. Edward was the combustible one—all noise and fury, always a hair's breadth away from explosion. But excitable as he was, Edward was far less dangerous than his younger brother when pushed beyond the limits of reason. Ed might shout and scream and curse and throw punches; Alphonse could simply snap an opponent's neck in half with his bare hands if he had to...not that he ever would....

"—so I want an explanation. _Now_. Before we get off this ship. And you're going to allow our womenfolk to use the showers, and if you want them escorted, then Mr. Havoc will gladly go with them. But there will be no guns. We aren't terrorists. You are in no danger—"

"You misunderstand the situation, Mr. Elric." A chilly voice from the doorway. Captain Armstrong had arrived to see why her orders had not been carried out. "This is for your protection. After Mr. Mustang's bit of prestidigitation this morning, nearly every native Ranamuertian on board this ship—and a few from Cuba and Haiti—determined that your family is trafficking in…well, let us say that old superstitions are slow to die out in the Caribbean."

Edward frowned. "Superstition? What the hell are you talking about?" He spun around and glared savagely at his lover. "And what the fuck were you doing last night, Shithead? How'd you get out of the bunk without waking me up?"

Roy's dark brows shot up in surprise. "I didn't. You had a death-lock on my ass with that metal hand of yours. I couldn't even roll over. Every time I moved, you just kept gripping tighter. If I'd tried to get out of the blankets you'd probably have torn my butt cheek off." He offered a sly grin to the captain. "Perhaps you'd like to inspect the bruises in private, Ma'am?" Edward socked him in the arm with a curse.

Armstrong was unimpressed. "A man in a blue uniform was seen coming up the companionway in the early hours. He spoke to our ship's cook, saluted her, and then he walked straight through her and vanished. He was dressed like a soldier and was carrying a gun at his hip. Milagra was frightened so badly she required medical treatment for her blood pressure. She identified the man as Mr. Mustang." Icy eyes regarded Taisa without sympathy. "When there was no breakfast, our mate came down to look for Milagra, who told us all what happened. When we rounded you up, we found you in bed with Mr. Elric. When we searched your belongings—" she waved off their shouts of protest---"_which_ is my right, as Captain of this ship—we found no uniform."

Edward rolled his eyes impatiently. "And you actually believe this bullcrap? It's not scientific. Bisexuality? Hell, I can believe that. But not _bilocation_."

"You forget where you are, _sir_. The legends of Eyes-Of-Gold are still told to children in these island."

"Eyes-Of-Gold, _si_, " the mate nodded. "The sorcerer from The Other Side of the Sky, with hair and eyes of burning gold, the one who mastered the use of every venomous plant and animal, who taught the Ranamuertians how to lick the milky sap from the toad's glands to excite the passions. The one who made the Vision Stone high in his mountain lair where he would gaze night after night into the Mirror of the Worlds in search of his lost children, drunk on strange brews and howling in languages never heard before---"

At this, the entire Elric clan burst into hearty whoops of derisive laughter. "And you actually _believe_ that shit?" Ed snickered, as Alphonse wiped his eyes and Teddy and Edwin leaned against one another for support. "Mustang—practicing _voodoo_? And some old fart gets drunk and crazy on vision vine and toad venom and you make him out to be a saint? Geez….and traveling between the worlds? You people better lay off the frog smoothies. It's fucked your logic all to hell, lady!"

Armstrong slammed the door behind her. Edward turned to his family. "We're _fucked_," he told them, all traces of amusement gone from his fierce expression.

PORT NORMAN, ISLAND OF RANAMUERTE

"Do you have anything to declare?" the customs agent wanted to know.

"Yeah. Captain Armstrong is a first class b—"

Roy slapped his hand firmly over Edward's mouth. "Nothing, sir," he answered cheerfully. They were the last ones out of the terminal, which opened out onto the brand new Port Norman Tourist Center. The meteoric rise in the island's economy was the direct result of the legalization of gay marriage plus the jet setters swooping in to sample the aphrodisiac qualities of Paninya's frog smoothies at _La Grenouille_. What had been a seedy little backwater eco-tourist haven now earned three stars in _Guide Michelin_.

The frog motif was everywhere—they even decorated the flush handles of the urinals in the customs house men's room. There was an exhibit of live cane toads in a custom crafted terrarium in the lobby and everywhere little speakers designed like poison dart frogs piped in digital audio files of frog music recorded above the jungle canopy.

On their way out, Edward stopped to ponder an exhibit of fossils dug out of the hills near the cave where the infamous Eyes-Of –Gold kept his Mirror of the Worlds. "_Beelzebufo_, the Devil Toad, was originally believed to originate in Madagascar," he read aloud to his lover. "'Large enough to have taken down hatchling dinosaurs, the Devil Toad measured nearly 20 inches long and weighed in at an estimated 15 pounds.'"

Roy calculated the width of the skeletal jaw, then measured his lover's head. "Large enough to take down a bean-sized State Alchemist, although that automail would have played hell with its digestion," he observed. "Easily tracked by the screws and bits of wire and empty Frito Pie wrappers in its odiferous droppings."

"Do you want an automail foot up your rectum, Shithead?"

"At least I'd feel it—as opposed to that sawed off little—"

"ROY!"

"—of yours. Let's get out of here." Hoisting his carry on over his shoulder, he headed off towards the entrance, not waiting for Edward to catch up.

Outside, the din was overwhelming. Shrieks, squawks and obscenities assaulted their ears. Edwin stood transfixed before some arcane artifact in the dead center of the plaza, every inch of which was covered by the largest flock of parrots Edward had ever seen. Blinding displays of gaudy plumage were fanning over what appeared to be some sort of statuary. Tourists were tossing grapes and bits of mango to the birds who snapped them up greedily and then squirted out puddles of guano that concealed much of the statue's head.

It was the life sized image of a man—a Caucasian man in Edwardian Era clothing. Tall and deep chested, he had hawkish features and rather mild looking eyes behind narrow, rectangular spectacles. His hair was bound up in a lengthy ponytail and a rather large specimen of _bufo marinus_ squatted beside his feet like an obedient pup. Bolts of fire seemed to shoot out of his upraised hands. A plaque at the statue's base read "THE LEGENDARY 'EYES-OF-GOLD'" in five languages. A pile of offerings were laid at the statue's feet, obscured by shed feathers and driblets of bird shit.

Edward made a menacing gesture. "Shoo, damn it," he shouted to the flock. "This ain't a friggin' Jimmy Buffett concert."

Edwin was fascinated. "Eyes-Of-Gold?"

One corner of Edward's mouth crept up in an ironic grin as he patted the statue's foot. "Hi, Dad. We're back…"

At Guest's Services, Teddy was greeted by Paul Youngblood—former steward with American Airlines and now official Wedding Liaison for Hope Springs resort. "Oh, Miss Teddy! Such a pleasure to meet you again—and this is your little girl? _Tres charmante_! I must say, she _does_ bear a teensy bit of resemblance to La Mustang." Actually, the resemblance was more than just a 'teensy bit'. When Paninya, the woman who ran the resort, spotted the baby she had given Teddy an odd, malicious grin before walking off and ignoring her altogether.

"Actually, she's adopted. Her birth mother is Taisa's younger cousin. She's in college now, but she was visiting in America on a student visa and brought home a little…_souvenir. _ My husband Remy and I wanted to adopt anyway so we were glad to make her our little girl."

"Ohhh….that's so moving," Paul sighed theatrically, daubing at his eyes with his pristine pocket handkerchief. "Love prevails, my darlings—it always does. And now our darling Mr. Mustang and that dashing Mr. Edward are tying the knot this week! Now then," he turned to the receptionist, "let's get our Little Miss Elric-Havoc registered in the nursery so that we can provide you with sitter service or in house care as needed. Of course, that is included in your resort package as requested."

"Great. Izumi has her nanny and Grandmere along with us, but Jeanne-Marie is also looking after my nephew Edwin and as for Ms. Watanabe, well…she and my father….I-I want Ai-san to be able to spend some time with Daddy." While Alphonse hadn't come right out and admitted it, he and Ai were unquestionably interested in one another. Teddy wanted to encourage this—she adored Ai-san and felt that her father had never gotten over Winry's death a decade ago. _There's enough love—and lust—in the air around here. Maybe it's contagious._

"Oh, what a lovely child!" A slim, dark haired nurse with a stunning angular face and violet eyes came forward, beaming at Teddy's daughter. "What's your name, precious?"

"Izumi," Teddy told the newcomer proudly. "She's here for her godfather's wedding."

"Well, isn't that wonderful. My name is Verity. Verity Greene. My little ones call me Nursie Greene. I've just come to join the daycare staff here at Hope Springs." A long, slender finger delicately stroked the baby's cheek. "I do hope you'll come and visit me, won't you, Izumi?"

Teddy warmed to the woman right away. "Absolutely. I'm sure you'll get along famously." She offered her hand. "I'm Teddy—Teddy Elric."

"_Elric_??" The lavender eyes dilated slightly. "I'm sure I've heard that name before."

"Ummm…my uncle's name's on the list outside in the lobby. He's marrying Izumi's godfather. Edward Elric and Roy Mustang. They've reserved the Bell Court Meditation Garden for Friday at sunset. We got here early so we can unwind—plus Roy's uncle is flying in from England and there's a nephew we've never met from Australia that's coming with him. So I suspect we'll be all over the place."

Nursie Greene nodded. "I look forward to meeting with Edward Elric—and his intended."

Back in his suite, Envy kicked off his nurse's shoes in disgust. He rapped smartly on the bathroom door. "Haven't you finished _yet_?" He was answered with a loud belch. "Don't leave any traces, Gluttony. Make sure you get every drop."

"She's too skinny!" the fat man wailed. "Can't I eat the babies? They've got more flavor. Envy, you _promised_ you'd take me down to the nursery!"

"Change of plans," the shapeshifter replied, gazing out the window and watching the Hughes character dashing up the walkway to intercept what could only be Roy Mustang—at least, the Colonel of _this_ stinking world. "The brat could be useful. Better go find yourself a buffet."

So…he was here now. Both brothers. _Plus_ the reborn mother AND two brats. What a delicious scenario—to take them all down, right in Hohenheim's old lair. Now, if he could only get his hands on that alchemic keystone—that doorway would be open between the worlds forever. Eternity would be their hunting ground. "And one by one, I'll pick them all off on this side. Once every living drop of my father's blood has been wiped out, we'll start hunting back in Amestris again…"

AMESTRIS, PRESENT DAY

They took the price of the pizza out of Josh Tringham's ass.

He'd told his classmates he could prove that the ol' Tin Man himself, Edward Elric, had been the personal butt boy of the legendary Colonel Roy Mustang. Half the class had been nauseated—the other half had been downright intrigued. He told 'em it would cost them an extra large pizza from Gluttony's. Six weeks had passed and the generally cocky Tringham had been uncharacteristally closed-mouthed about the whole deal. "Look, dude," Jack Dorochet told him calmly before landing a punch that knocked the wind out of Tringham's belly, "you shot off yer mouth. You scarfed the pizza and you couldn't prove a damn thing. Do you blame us for wanting a piece of your hide?"

That's why, when he staggered home after soccer practice, he neglected to tell her mother that the whole team had been using his backside as their ball. "Fell down the stairs at Central Library, " he lied. "It's cool. Get me some aspirin, willya, Mom? I gotta get to the museum tonight."

"_For your family. For your disciples. A way home."_

_Kneeling in the ashes of the hearth, Colonel Roy Mustang scrawled an array in the dirt. Smiling a little, he plucked a gold button from his jacket, a silver one from his coat-tail. _

_Tricia Elric never woke from her exhausted sleep, never felt the needle that gently pricked her fingertip, nor did she miss that drop of crimson that he caught on the stone's face. A quick jab and a drop of his own blood was dripped to blend with hers on the face of the stone, which was then laid in the heart of the array with the two buttons._

_Once upon a time, months ago, he'd taken a hammer to Hoenheim's stone in sheer frustration. A splinter from that blow was laid upon the lazulite, the blood staining them both._

_A little gold. A little more silver. Lazulite. The strange green stone shaped by Hoenheim of Light. Roy's blood…and Elric blood._

_Roy's mother would have worn it with pride._

_A tiny golden sphere of the sun, laced with horns of the moon in delicate silver, curled around a heavier silver setting for a large faceted stone of midnight blue, veined with gold and deep green. The bail was adorned with a triple spiral, like the one on Tricia Elric's array, the one he'd complained was too time consuming to draw in a hurry._

_He touched it to the Portal Stone—and for an instant it went from shimmering and opaque to clear as green water. "All right," he nodded to the sleeping woman at his feet. "Your grandfather made the doorway. And now, I've made the key…"_

The unveiling of the Array Stone, the one dredged out of Lake Armstrong, was this weekend. Today was Wednesday, and every moment Josh was not in school he was trotting behind Professor Cyrus "Dickless" Dickinson, project coordinator. This was all part of the special exhibit, "Mustang—The Man And His Times" sponsored by the State Museum of Alchemy. There were no Elrics or Mustangs left in Amestris, but the decendants of some of their companions were coming to the gala on Friday evening. The buzz around Central was that 90-something year old Elycia Hughes was being brought down as an honored guest, since Mustang had been her godfather. _And your father was---he and Roy were—_

_No. Better not. It would only hurt the Hughes family._ Weeks ago, Josh Tringham wouldn't have cared less. That was before he read that little note Zolf Kimblee had left in the fraternization pamphlet signed out to Roy Mustang, the one that threatened Roy with exposure if Roy didn't submit to him sexually. Josh found it absolutely repugnant that Mustang and Hughes had been threatened. Okay, so maybe they were sucking each other's dicks in school. Were they actually hurting anybody? Maybe it kept 'em from going nuts from the stress. Maybe they were homesick, scared of getting shot up in the Ishballan war. He'd wound up in the principal's office for counselling when he'd given his assigned report on The Crimson Alchemist , which opened with the words, "Zolf Kimblee was one evil fuck".

Josh had kept the note and the pamphet and pocketed the strange blue stone which he kept on a long leather bootlace around his neck. And every time he got close to the Portal Stone, the goddamned pendant _hummed_. Weird as shit. As if it was reacting to the Stone.

Tonight, Josh would be hosing down the stone, giving it a polishing rubdown with a chamois cloth and getting it ready to go on display. He got a wild idea—what would happen if the alchemic stone in the pendant touched the Portal stone? Would the great stone react? "Just for shits and giggles…might be fun to see what happens…."

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

Once the Elric-Mustang wedding party checked into their rooms at Hope Springs at noon, Edward and Alphonse ordered their exhausted family to the table for a decent meal. "Room service for—lessee…" A quick head count brought the total from nine to twelve now that Hughes, Uncle Simon and Roy's nephew Nigel had met them in the lobby.

Ed had set up the living area of the Bridal Suite as their base of operations, since he knew damned well Roy would hold to the 'no ring/no schwing!" oath he'd forced Edward to take as punishment for his presumed dalliance with Heiderich's ghost. Truth be told, now that Roy's anger had cooled to annoyance he was beginning to regret holding Edward to this ridiculous vow of abstinence. He'd awakened in Ed's bunk aboard the _Mary Reade_ that morning to find that Ed's erection had somehow gone on recon into the sacred territory of Roy's boxers. Skin to skin, heat to heat, and Ed looking damned suspicious. "It crawled in there by itself, honest!" he whispered angrily when Mustang pointed out that Ed's hard-on had invaded his fly and was pressed against his lover's belly with lustful intent. Ed swore that it was pure coincidence—then thrust his hands inside Roy's shorts to extricate the 'merry wanderer of the night', only to accidentally grab his mate's goodies instead. If Captain Armstrong hadn't pounded on the cabin door and ordered them into the Captain's Mess, they might have had to battle it out in the steamy confines of the ship's single shower. Roy's jeans had been uncomfortably tight in the crotch every since.

Glad as he was to see Uncle Simon and as intrigued as he was to meet his half-brother's son, all he was really interested in was in twisting that infuriating little bastard into a Tantric pretzel and reaming the living shit out of him. And quite frankly, he could have led his lover out to the Nude Lagoon and fucked him in broad daylight on the men's side of the beach—and the worst that could happen would have been getting sand up his crack.

"Beats the shit out of Paris," he muttered as his eyes swept over the fare on the room service menu. The City of Lights had better food, but at least here nobody was going to kick their asses out for slow dancing in the piano bar.

Having found a new victim in Dr. Nigel, Ed set about preening over his own brilliance while Alphonse's genuine warmth set the newcomer at ease. Jeanne-Marie was engaged in a lively discussion with Uncle Simon in French, while Teddy was circling Hughes like a lioness on Atkins.

Drawing him away from the rest of the family, she plopped down on the sofa and pointed at the marble topped coffee table. "Sit," she commanded. Hughes moved to join her on the sofa. She shook her head and indicated that he should perch on the chilly stone instead. When he began muttering in protest, she stood up, grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him forcibly down.

The sharp hiss of discomfort told her all she needed to know. "You. Me. After lunch. _In private._" Hughes gulped his scotch nervously and tried to force a smile as he agreed.

"All right—everybody to bed. Now. None of us got a decent night's rest last night. We'll meet for dinner at six."

"Speak for yourself. I'm heading for the Jacuzzi. Then I need to get my kimono to the cleaners for a good pressing. Looks like hell after being shoved into a suitcase at short notice when we left." Mustang protested.

Havoc grinned at his nephew in law. "Edwin and I are heading into Port Norman—Nigel, would you like to join us?"

"Sure, mate! Busted the earphones on me iPod. Want to see if I can replace 'em."

"I'll pass, dear boy. Fancy a stroll on the beach and a couple of cool gins on the patio." Simon waved away their inquiring looks with a smile.

Ai beamed shyly. "Jeanne-san has invited me to join her at the spa for a mud bath and a facial."

Jeanne-Marie flashed her eyes towards Uncle Simon. "Keeps the skin so smooth and glowing, non?"

"Not that you ladies need it," he replied gallantly.

"Izumi and I are going to find a hammock in the garden and rest and read a little," Alphonse shared. "Then we're going to get all the family laptops logged in to the local server."

"I've got some wedding plans to discuss with Paul---and Mays and I have some _catching up to do_." Teddy shot Hughes a warning glance that cautioned him against inviting himself along on Remy's excursion into Port Norman.

Ed waved them all off. "Whatever. And since I don't have any proper wedding attire I'll see what Paul can come up with."

"In your size? Probably a flower girl's dress—you might want to stop off by the salon and get some French braids—very flattering, I would imagine."

"_Who the fuck are you calling a sawed-off, pipsqueak junior bridesmaid to an amoeba, you arrogant son of—"_ For once in his life, Edward glanced at the new face at the table and shut the hell up.

Teddy stretched across the table, offering her hand. "Welcome to the family, Nigel…."

"Put some more ice on it, mon. You swollen up like a damn _buffo marinus_." Paninya pulled out a bar rag and stuffed it full of cracked ice, tying it tight before passing it over to Paul. "What de hell did he punch you for? You try hittin' on Mister Little Man Elric or something? Nobody _that_ crazy. Wish that Mustang come to his senses an' let Miss Paninya mix him up one o' her special frog smoothies—I get him so hard he don't care _who_ suckin' his dick."

"Now, darling, let's not get ugly about this. It's my own fault, I suppose. It's just that we don't have any men's tuxes or suits anywhere close to his size. I merely made a tiny joke that perhaps one of our bridal gowns might come nearer to fitting someone of his stature should he be inclined to cross dress for the occasion."

"Whoaaa—you said that to Edo?" Teddy and Hughes had just entered La Grenouille at Mayland's suggestion. If Teddy was going to rip him a new one better to be in a public place where it probably wouldn't get to messy. Teddy had met Paul earlier when she informed him she was helping coordinate the details for the wedding, "since both of the grooms are a little short tempered right now."

She examined the bruise and shook her head sympathetically. "Don't let his looks fool you. Edo's about as butch in his own way as they come. He'd rip out his own intestines with a crochet hook before doing drag, and Roy's just as bad. Couldn't you find anything that fit?"

"_Jamais!_" Paul threw up his hands in despair. He did mention he has a coat—a red coat with a family crest, worn on special occasions…"

"Right. Our family was a sort of honor guard back in the 1800's in Europe—we wore crimson coats with a black crest, and since it's a hereditary honor guard and we were allegedly never released from service we still have the coats, passed from parent to child. If you could find some black pants and a shirt and shoes, maybe…?"

"That's about what we had decided on. Oh, and Mr. Mustang's kimono is being pressed—although he had a private consult with the tailor. Seems he may have something else in mind—a military uniform of some sort. In _blue_."

Teddy arranged her face as carefully as if she was seated at a table of Texas Hold 'Em. "His wedding. His business. All I have to do is hang onto the rings and keep them both from chickening out."

"By the way, your own togs will be pressed and ready for you by the morning. Mr. Edward may balk at wearing white lace and orange blossoms, but you are going to look _tres charmante_ in that Victorian frock coat and cravat. Very dashing. You'll be fighting the dykes off with a stick, precious."

"Err---I'll stick to my Versace suit, thanks," Hughes stammered, snatching up one of the menus and scanning it. "Got anything without frog in it?"

"Are you kidding?"

Paninya shoved a chilled mug and a frosty bottle over to him. "Give this a try. It'll put the starch back in your little man, yeah…"

" 'Tree Frog Beer—It's Mean, 'Cause It's Green'. Clever, that."

"And I'll have another cola---over at that table." Teddy jerked her half-empty glass towards a secluded corner.

"Gimme five minutes—gotta send some up from vending." Again, Paninya shot her a cryptic smirk before walking away, guiding Paul by the elbow through the kitchen door. Teddy was just about to haul Mays over for a royal chewing out when a tall blonde woman joined them at the bar. "Excuse me," she said in a low, precise voice, "could you hand me one of those menus?"

"You're actually going to try one of those frog smoothies?" Mays wanted to know.

"Aren't you?" the stranger countered.

"Hell no!" he shuddered. "I've seen how they whip them up. Keep a big vat of frogs over in the corner. Pull out a handful, smash 'em flat with a brick, toss 'em in the blender and there you go."

"I never had a lick of morning sickness until Taisa told me about the drinks here. Had to eat half a tin of Altoids to keep from throwing up all night. Disgusting!"

The woman's cognac eyes studied the pair of them intently. "So you think there might be a violation of health regulations?"

Hughes' well-honed lawyer brain immediately kicked into gear.

"Depends. This isn't US territory. Not sure what Ranamuertian regs are."

"That aside, what about animal cruelty?" the woman insisted.

"Don't look at me, I'm sticking to Coke Zero," said Teddy.  
"Actually," the woman clarified, "that's Croaka-Cola. With Splenda."

"_GAAAAHHHHH_! _Ptui_!" Diving off her bar stool, Teddy raced for the ladies' room, gagging uncontrollably.

"So much for our little _tete a' tete_, Ted-o," Hughes chuckled wickedly. "Thank you Madame. My ex lover and I were about to have a bit of a set-to and you just saved my backside—_literally_." He offered his hand with a charming grin. "Mayland Alexander Hughes, Attorney At Law."

She nodded. "Captain Leeza Hawkeye. I'm with the _DEA_."

"You getting married on Friday night? I have it ready Thursday afternoon. You leave it to me."

"Will you need any further measurements?"

Mr. Fu frowned over his glasses. "Many men marry here. Many ladies. Mr. Paul, he say, 'Mr. Fu, you leave the Hong Kong cosplay sweatshop. You come to paradise, make the brides look good, the men look even better.' Have five daughters up in our shop in Port Norman. You will look very fine on your wedding day. You want the hat, too? Run you fifteen dollars American."

"Yeah. What the hell. Go for it."

"Boots to fit—available from rental, same as the dress shirt and studs. And gloves. What size you wear?"

Roy dug into his pocket and produced a pair of worn Pyrotex gloves, a red salamander array painstakingly drawn on the back of each one. "Brought my own, actually."

Mr. Fu snatched them out of Mustang's hand and examined them carefully. "You have something in the finger tip, left ring finger."

"Oh?" Black brows arched a little in surprise. "Hadn't noticed."

"Haven't worn them, then. Very uncomfortable. What is it?"

Mustang shook the left glove over his open palm. A tiny disc of fine jade dropped into his hand, a gold alchemic glyph shining in its heart. "What the---??"

"Very fine specimen," Fu exclaimed, taking it carefully between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up to the light. "Translucent. Very nice. You didn't know that was in your glove?"

"The gloves were left to me by….my _father_. I've never worn them. Didn't know that was in there."

" You want to sell it? Could fetch very nice price on Ebay. I only take ten percent."

"No. In fact, I'll give it to my husband."

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in my bedroom, asshole?" Ed stepped out of the shower, furiously toweling off the ropes of sopping blonde hair that stuck to his back and shoulders. "Where's Al?"

"I told him we needed to talk privately. He's staying in my room tonight."

Ed looked suspicious. "You were the one who insisted—"

"_Shut up_. I'm serious. I have to talk—and you need to listen."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"About _this_—" he flung a pair of Pyrotex gloves down on Ed's pillow, "—and _this_." The gloves were joined by a glowing, greenish slab of rock that Win-Sarah and her brother Alfons Heiderich Elric had prized out of the courtyard at the Battery Carriage House in Charleston where Envy, Gluttony—and the fetch of a long dead German rocket scientist---had all emerged into their lives again.

Ed paled under his sun-flushed skin. It had been _weeks_ since they had made love, and having shared a bunk last night in near-chastity—did an accidental boxer invasion count against his promise? —he was aching now. In fact, he'd wasted a great deal of hot water trying to mask the sounds of his own groans and whimpers in case Alphonse had come back to the suite. He was spent and trembling with fatigue, although the intensity in his lover's eyes made his cock stir slightly with renewed interest. "Uh…okay. Go on. _Talk_, damn it."

"About the stone. About Heiderich. It's done. He probably kept you from either killing yourself or getting yourself killed. He got you and your brother back together—and when he sent you back to Amestris I got to hold you one last time. I've talked to him, using _this_---and he's a good person. Was. Hell, I don't know if he's a _was_ or an _is_. Whatever. You're alive—and it's because of Alfons. I'm pissed I wasn't told—and you're still gonna have to talk this out with your brother to clear the air. But it's not an issue between us anymore. So much for the rock."

He wrapped the stone in a Hope Springs hand towel and laid it to one side, taking up his gloves. Ed began to shake his head slowly, biting hard on his lips to keep quiet as requested. "Edward….sit down. I have to do this—"

Ed's eyes widened as Taisa lit a candle, switched off the lights and locked the door. Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the right glove and began to inch his fingers inside the spark cloth. A small, fearful sound was bubbling up inside of Edward, something he could not suppress. "Taisa…_please_," he whispered urgently. "Don't do this…"

"I need you to be quiet. I have to do this."

"Taisa…_Roy._"

His lover froze and stared at him. "Yes. Precisely. I can't marry you if I don't know who the hell I am." Then he jammed the glove forcefully over his fingers, repeating the gesture on his other hand.

Last time he'd tried it he'd passed out, which Teddy and Jeanne-Marie had attributed to low blood sugar. He'd planned for it this time. He'd eaten properly, and the finger stick showed him cruising at a glucose altitude of around 107—well within normal tolerances.

There was a low, humming sound inside his head, just like before. He had dabbed on some of the _Amestris_ cologne that was mixed up by the _parfumier _in Charleston from the intriguing scent that clung to the gloves…the _Colonel's_ scent. _My_ scent, he accepted, breathing slowly and deeply, letting the smoke-and-sandalwood aroma feed the receptive parts of his brain where his memories might yet be sleeping. What was it Teddy had told him during training? _Grandfather told Edo that alchemists have a Gateway inside themselves—that we can open that Gate and find our way home again._ He wanted to embrace the past—but the larger part of him was afraid he would never find his way back. "Let me touch you. I need to be anchored in the here-and-now. Take your shirt off."

Eyes closed, he felt his hands being guided, the gloved palms resting lightly upon his lover's chest, while Ed's hands curled around his wrists. "I'm here, Roy. Do what you've got to do."

It reminded him a little of anesthesia, only it was the rich smoky smell and not the sickly sweet chemicals that was lulling him down…down…down…

The world was red. Red walls. Red sheets. Shimmering, living gold stretched out before him. Gold and silver. Cold steel and hungry flesh and a heart that beat wildly against his chest as they embraced.

_Smell of stale sweat in the air; cheap perfume…a bray of feminine laughter in the hallway. Coins—no, sens---had changed hands to insure they would not be disturbed. Just like the night before—he would be leaving to storm the Fuehrer's palace in two more days—and Fullmetal would go into the underground temple to battle Dante and the Homunculi. _

_Edward had cried out in pain as his lover's fingers softly brushed against his entrance. The Colonel had drawn back in alarm, shamed that he hadn't considered that Edward's eagerness in the office two days ago and his uninhibited lovemaking of the night before might have taken their toll on his inexperienced partner. It's all right…there's so much more we can do…_

"…_together_…so much more…let me make it right. Let me make it good for you, Fullmetal…"

Closing his eyes, Edward wrapped his arms tightly around his lover, who seemed lost between the worlds. There was a fine film of sweat forming on his face, and beneath his skin Edward could detect a rising heat that reminded him sharply of his Colonel, whose pale flesh seemed fever-hot whenever he touched Ed's naked flesh. "Wh-where are you?" he begged, so afraid that Taisa's tentative hold on reality might snap at any given moment.

"In your arms…in Ranamuerte….and in Mrs. Christmas' brothel."

"Good God---can you actually…Roy…what can you…I mean, what—"

"I see _you_. Pulling away from me, because it hurts tonight…and I'm so sorry. I want to pleasure you…want to stroke and taste and smell your clean hair and rub my body against yours—anything to make it good for you…"

Edward squeezed his eyes tightly against the moisture that threatened to spill over and down his cheeks. Those were the memories he clung desperately to during that winter in Munich, when he sought the bliss and oblivion at the bottom of a bottle in hopes they would miraculously reveal some arcane clue that would reopen the Gate and send him back to the people he loved. "You did. You _did_. I couldn't wait to wrap my body around yours—god you smelled so good—"

"---you drank a little brandy before I got there, hoping it would make you relax, so it wouldn't hurt so much. Made your mouth so warm and sweet—"

"---I wanted you…ohhhh god…so goddamn much. Would have done it even if it hurt but you wouldn't let me---"

"—loved you too much to hurt you like that—wanted to save it for our last nights….wanted to be inside you, wouldn't risk it. You were curled so tight around my body---" Taisa's shirt was peeled from his sweating back and thrown aside as they slid down onto the bed together. "Your cock was so wet…dripping for me---"

"—like when I woke this morning," Ed moaned softly, hips churning slowly against Taisa's as his hands swept up and down along his lover's spine. "It was so good…you made me come so hard like that---"

"---I licked you clean….bathed you with my tongue…god, I can still taste you---" Gloved fingers, coarse as sandpaper, flicked lightly against his nipples, making Edward writhe in delight.

"---then I sucked you. I loved doing that. I still do…always will—"

"----I didn't want to die. I was so scared of dying. Of losing what I'd found. _Losing us_." Taisa began to shiver.

"_Open your eyes, Roy._ Now…come back, damn it—"

"—_I never left._" Taisa was gazing down into his lover's upturned face. "I…I needed to know. How it began. What it…what it was like for us. What I felt for you then."

Edward nodded gravely. "Now you know. You don't have to open that door again."

Taisa glanced down at the salamander arrays on the backs of his gloved hands. "And I don't think these gloves can hurt me anymore."

_You could be dead wrong—but when did you ever admit to it?_ Ed shook his head, but tugged a blanket up to cover them both.

Mustang looked surprised. "You're going to let me share your bed again?"

"Yeah….yeah, guess so," Ed mumbled, wondering how he could gracefully slip back into the bathroom and tend to the headstrong part of his anatomy that was commanding his attention again.

"I'm hard for you."

Ed's mouth went dry. "Got the same damn problem."

Mustang mouth curled into a slow, hot grin. "I want to watch."

"What---this?" Ed pointed at the silent TV.

"No, moron. _You_."

"Oh. Isn't that--?"

"Not if we don't touch each other."

"Hmmmm."

"Well?"

"Welllll…….mmmmmmmm….pass me the gloves, will ya?"

"Kinky,aren't you, Fullmetal?"  
"_Shut up_!"

….TO BE CONTINUED…..


	13. Chapter 13

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT—REPUBLIC OF RANAMUERTE

Alphonse almost tripped over Taisa's long legs when he stumbled to the bathroom around 4am. His brother's lover was curled up on the floor with a blanket and a pillow off the sofa where Edwin was snoring softly. "Taisa? Are you all right?"

To his relief, Mustang gave him a drowsy grin that reminded him sharply of the expression on the face of Yao, his 'psychotic psiamese', right after the cat had turned Ed's beloved koi pond into his personal sushi bar. "Never better. I just had to get out of there before I compromised your brother's virtue. I'm fine."

"You won't be in the morning if you sleep down there. We've got to go up to the Portal stone on the zip lines, remember? I've got the clock set for 5am. The bed's big enough for both of us, and—" Alphonse grinned back mischievously "—I know I'm not your type."

Groaning a little, Mustang crawled in under the light covers and shifted the corner of his pillow fussily until it fitted just so under the curve of his neck. "Too right," he muttered drowsily. "Ai-san would kill me."

Al's tousled head poked around the bathroom door, eyes alight. "_Really?_"

Edward, on the other hand, could barely keep his eyes closed. There was an odd discomfort in his chest, as if his heart had dried up and had only just been refreshed—and had to be stretched like old leather to contain this new happiness.

The bed smelled deliciously of Mustang's cologne and even after his lover left Ed couldn't help nuzzling the pillows and inhaling deeply, unable to resist rewinding and playing back the pornographic mental movies racing through his head.

They abided by the rules. Hands—and mouths—above the waist or below the crotch. That, as any horny teenager could have told them, left for a hell of a lot of leeway when it came to getting oneself or one's lover off.

In the crimson cavern of Mrs. Christmas' brothel, Ed remembered lying half-rigid with anxiety that first night while watching his Colonel turn the simple act of removing his clothing into erotic theater. Tonight, Roy had him pinned to the headboard with his hot eyes as he slowly peeled off what was left of his clothing before forcing Edward to watch as he pleasured himself. Long fingers caressed Ed's lips before gliding into his mouth, withdrawing and wetly circling taut nipples that made his lover's mouth water. As tanned, slim hands glided over the rippled abdomen, Mustang voice became a hoarse whisper: "_don't look away". _ The fingers invaded Edward's mouth once again, only this time they disappeared from sight; Roy's soft growls of lust told him _precisely_ what those fingers were doing and how good it felt. Roy bit his lips as he writhed before his man, arching back to meet those thrusting fingers, rocking forward into is own right hand that flicked and squeezed and wrung every last drop of pleasure from the younger man. Once he recovered he crawled up to where his lover was slumped against the pillows, open mouthed and too stunned to speak.

"Get them off," Roy hissed, guiding his lover's hand towards his belt. Ed was so bedazzled he fumbled like a nervous virgin until he finally rolled off the bed and ripped his zipper trying to get naked. "_Sit down_," he ordered as he crawled behind the smaller man, a pillow pressed into service between their hips as an improvised chastity barrier.

Those gloves…those motherfucking, wonderful _gloves_. Stroking the back of his neck. Skating along his spine…then ohdearfucking_god_, sliding leisurely up the insides of his straining thighs, brushing perilously near without touching. All the while Mustang was whispering _things_, tender obscenities, punctuated by an inquisitive tongue that flicked in and out of Ed's ear.

"_Goddamn you, Taisa_," Ed groaned, biting his pillow in frustration as he reached for himself yet again. He should never want anything—or anyone—as much as he craved his lover's body. Roy had taken hold of his wrist, molding his fingers to a certain shape and guided it down. "_Slow and deep… tell me how it good it feels…"_

"Nnnnggg….haaa….godOHgoddd…"

"_Say it_, Fullmetal…tell me what it feels like…"

"You're…._SHIT!_ God, that's so…hhhuuuhhhh…"

A soft _thwap!_ as one of the empty gloves slapped against his bare belly. "_Tell_ me… talk to me, Edward…"

And he'd been utterly helpless, goddamn it. …and all the while his lover—his _mate_—was teasing him with those motherfucking gloves…

_Ker-BLAMMMM!_ A size nine Tony Lama cowboy boot kicked the door open. "SHIT!" Ed yelped, yanking the rumpled sheet over his crotch to conceal his frustrated erection.

"WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU UP YET, _Edouard??"_ Jeanne-Marie Havoc stomped in, bearing a breakfast tray. Ai-san was right behind her with an armload of fresh laundry. The older woman paused beside the bed, glanced down at Ed's flushed face and snickered evilly. "Ha! You was _up_ already, _non_?" The tray was deposited on his lap, and Ed could have sworn she pushed it down deliberately to make him squirm with discomfort. "You better keep your strength up, _cher_. Got a long day takin' us all up to dat damn cave on de zipline."

"I have your clothing ready, Edo-san," Ai smiled, keeping her eyes politely away from her employer's naked form. "Al-san gave me a list to pick up from the outfitters in the gift shop. Al-san and Mustang-san say they will meet you in the lobby at six-fifteen with Teddy-san, Havoc-san, and Edwin-Kun. I will stay here with Izumi-chan and watch her."

"Fine, whatever---waitaminute!" Ed spat out a mouthful of buttered toast. "What do you mean, 'Edwin-kun'? He's not going with us."

"De hell you say," Jeanne-Marie shot back. "Dat boy—he seen plenty trouble back at Sonic, unless yo' little mind can't hol' on to dat kind of information for very long, hah?"

Edward glared up at his alchemic disciple with real irritation. "That isn't your decision to make."

"Oh? De hell it ain't," she crowed back in triumph. "You an' Papa Alphonse and Teddy—you say he's mine to order around. Got to do what I say, yes? Well, I say he need to go with us. Wanna teach that _infant_ how to behave? Want him to act right? Den you show him what he up against. Not on video. Show him _for real_. _D'accord_?"

Ed rubbed his eyes and sighed in resignation. "Fine. _Fine_. Whatever—only if he gets hurt, you get to explain it to Fritz."

Jeanne-Marie's face sobered instantly. "Dat's a moot point. Fritz ain't comin' back, non. I won't say nothin' until de cops tell us. But he's gone, _Edouard_. An' someone's gonna have to break it to de boy."

Ed stared at her. "Bullshit."

" I know what I know, _cher_."

"How?"

"Asked de spiders before we lef' Orlando. Big ol' wolf spider in de ladies' _pissoir_ at de airport. Must have rode in on someone's luggage. Mama Wolf, she tol' me. And de boy more dan half suspects it."

"You're full of shit, Jeanne." Ed shook his head, although there was an icy sickness forming in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite ignore. He grabbed at the carafe on his tray, lifted the lid and sniffed expectantly. "Fuck—this is hot water! Where's my goddamn coffee?"

"Embargo, Edo-san," Ai explained, digging into her pocket. "No coffee, because of the war with Jamaica. But I met some women from the boat who had some to spare." She handed him a small orange packet filled with brown crystals. _Decaffeinated _ brown crystals, to be precise. Ed stared at it with disgust.

"_SANKA?_"

"You're welcome, Edo-san."

Meanwhile, Hughes was getting forcefully _reamed_—and it was anything but enjoyable. "You _asshole!_" Teddy shouted, pacing back and forth in front of the bed where her dear friend and former lover was cowering under the blankets. "You low-life _motherfucker!_ WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING???"

Mays put up his arms by reflex, not that Teddy had ever raised her hand to him. "Now, see here, Ted-o—"

"Gimme your wallet," she snapped.

"Huh?"

"Your _wallet_, damn it!"

Was _that_ it?? Fer cryin' out loud—was Teddy trying to blackmail him? Were Teddy and Havoc that bad off…? He pulled his trousers off the floor and handed over his billfold. "Sweetie, look—if it's cash you need, you don't have to threaten me. What's mine is yours—and Gracia would back me up on this---"

Teddy gritted her teeth in frustration, rummaging thru the contents of May's walled until she found what she was looking for.

A stack of photographs were shoved under his pointed nose. "Two beautiful kids," Teddy told him seriously. "And since you obviously don't give a rat's ass about them or their mom, I might as well get rid of them for you." She looked down sadly at a snapshot of Alycia, beaming in delight as she posed on the sofa with her newborn sister Teddi-Grace. Teddy ripped the photo into tiny pieces and dumped them in the trash. "Sorry, precious. Oh—and this is a good one." Mays sucked in his breath abruptly as Teddy displayed a photo of Gracia in her wedding dress, a huge bouquet of white roses in her hands. "Gracie, you were too good for this crawling shit. Better luck next time—"

Hughes bolted out of bed and wrestled the remaining photos out of Teddy's grasp. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Teddy regarded him coolly. "Same thing you did when you let some man bone you up the ass. You pissed all over your marriage vows, Mays." He opened his mouth to protest, but her next words shut him up. "You've played around in the past—and that was fine. But you made a vow to be faithful to this woman, Mays. This wasn't an open relationship like ours was. You settled down. You have a beautiful family. And now you're out on the prowl again. And worse, you're on the Down Low. Oh, god, Mays—how could you _d_o this to her?"

Mays sank down onto the side of his bed, head in hands. "Ted—I love my wife. And god knows I love my family….it's just that—"

"You wanted cock."

He didn't look up. "Yeah."

"Specifically, you wanted _Remy's_ cock."

Hughes felt physically ill and for a moment was genuinely concerned that he might throw up all over Teddy's feet. That might have struck him as funny under any other circumstances—but not right now. "I tried so hard," he confessed. "I didn't want to feel that way. He's just…_really_ damn—"  
"Yeah. He _is_. And you should have talked to him, Mays."

Had she lost her senses? "He'd kill me."

"He _knows._ And you don't give him enough credit."

He stared at her, utterly confused. "I d-don't—"

Teddy rumpled her hair in frustration. "Good god, just think about him, Mays. You think this doesn't happen all the time? He's used to it. He's not upset—he's just worried you'll do something foolish and it will cost you your wife and kids—and now that you have—" The despair on her ex's face told her that maybe—_just maybe_—it might not be too late. She sighed dramatically. "All right. Let me ask you a few questions. Is it Remy, specifically? Men in general—or is it just that you want to get fucked up the ass?"

After a long while he reached for her hand. "Remember that night before your cancer surgery? When you and Cowboy Roy turned the tables on me?"

"—and Taisa topped you. Yeah. I remember. Go on."

He was shaking so badly, and she wasn't giving him any sympathy. Terrified that he was going to lose her as well as his wife and children, he decided to come clean—so to speak. "Teddy—that was the best night of sex I've ever had in my whole fuckin' life! I mean, here I am, Mr. Piledriver, Mr.-Big-Dick-Who-Runs-The-Whole-Show, Mr. Always In Control….and the two of you took that away from me! I _surrendered_, Ted---and it was so goddamn hot. Taisa just fucked the living shit out of me—and it felt so unbefreakin'lievable. Swear to god. And he never did it again! I-I mean, you guys tied me to the bed and he just _rode_ me---made me lose control. It was the hottest damn thing I've ever done."

"—and you never said a word about it, not in all these years." Teddy shook her head. "So you found something that really turned you on but it embarrassed you to admit it. And when you got a good look at my hot, gorgeous husband you started having fantasies."

"No! I-I mean, yeah…I mean, if he'd actually come on to me, I wouldn't have known whether to run, shit or go blind! But it was such a hot fantasy—god, I'm sorry, Ted."

Teddy rolled her eyes skyward, invoking the Sublime Mother Of The Universe Who Politely Looks The Other Way When Her Children Are Behaving Like Utter Morons. "Mayland…did you ever _talk_ to Gracia about this fantasy of yours?"

His jaw dropped in horror. "Christ—you can't be serious, Teddy! Tell her that—that I—liked…_you know_?"

"Ha! He can _do_ it—he just can't say it!" she taunted, before relenting a little." Look, Shithead—you want to lose your wife and children, you'd better not fuck around again. And _talk to your wife_, goddamn it! Listen to me—your wife does not shit rose petals and petunias! You want her to tie you up and top you, then _ask_ her, dink!"

"I'm not hearing this," he stammered. "I am _not_ hearing this. You're telling me that I tell my wife—"

"—that you want her to top you. Damn right I am. Could save your marriage—and your family."

"Out of the question. She'd _never_—"

"_How do you know if you don't ask??_"

He stared at her, dumbfounded, then began to look suspicious. "Right. Like you'd tell Remy about _your_ little kinks."

She smiled proudly. "I have. And he's told me _his_."

"T-that's…that's _insane_." Hughes shook his head. "Remy wouldn't—"  
"Let's just say," she tossed him a hot smile as the colors rose in her cheeks, "that when my Remy suggests we head to the kitchen for a 'midnight snack'…I'll race him to the fridge." She rose and hugged him. "Don't sell her short, Piledriver. Now get your ass in gear—Edo and Daddy are waiting in the lobby."

"Ai-san?" Alphonse smiled shyly at his former housekeeper as she met Alphonse and Remy in the lobby to pick up the baby while her parents hiked up to the secluded cave once occupied by Eyes-Of-Gold. "I was just talking to that nurse who works in the nursery. She seems so nice and she suggested that since you enjoyed going to the spa yesterday that maybe you ought to just take the rest of the morning and afternoon off and let us treat you to a full day of relaxing? Teddy suggested that you could have a hot stone massage, go for a swim, maybe—they've got a menu like a restaurant. You've worked so hard for us. Izumi will be perfectly happy in the nursery. Why not let us spoil you a little?"

"I…I don't know," she answered quietly. "It is my responsibility—"

"It would make me very happy if you'd say yes." Swallowing hard, he reached out and squeezed her hand. "Please, Ai…"

It was the first time he'd spoken to her without the traditional honorific, and she flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. "All right…._Aru._"

"_Perfect."_ Nurse Greene purred over the crib where Izumi Jean Elric napped. "Such little hands and feet. All that softness and sweetness. All that rotten blood in your little body---_his_ blood. Well…we'll just have to do something about that, _won't we_, _Mrs. CURTIS???_"

AMESTRIS, PRESENT DAY

STATE MUSEUM OF ALCHEMY, CENTRAL

"---taught the Elric brothers the fundamentals of Amestrian Alchemy. It is known that she did not approve of Edward's decision to become a State Alchemist and released both brothers from discipleship. Nonetheless, Izumi Curtis remained a powerful influence on both brothers, most notably Alphonse, who returned to her tutelage as soon as his physical body was restored. She died in 1917."

Professor 'Dickless" Dickinson nodded. "That will do nicely, Mr. Tringham. We'll edit that into the guidebook. Pities there are no relics of Mrs. Curtis to put on display."

"We've still got plenty from the brothers," Josh Tringham offered. "And the uniform of Colonel Mustang."

"Quite a coup, securing that," Dickinson pulled on his pipe thoughtfully. "Was that the one found in the ruins of that brothel that was attacked by Frank Archer?"

Josh nodded. "Yeah. Why would Mustang go to a brothel? I mean, from everything I've read about him he could have had any woman in the country."

His supervisor snorted. "From what I've heard, he probably _did_ have every woman in the country. But Mrs. Christmas' establishment was a notorious gathering place for those rebelling against Bradley's regime. I don't doubt that Mustang's assignation had little to do with sex and everything to do with sedition. Doubtless that he left his uniform behind while changing into plainclothes. It is all to our good fortune that he left certain bits of ID behind so we could identify them as his. Has it been properly cleaned, boy?"

"Yessir. I was going to put it on the dummy tonight."

"Fine, fine. I won't keep you. Heading home early tonight—you will be here early tomorrow, yes? I've already spoken with your principal. You'll be allowed a day off school since this constitutes participating in an educational event. Bring something to change into. You can use the showers in the lab downstairs."

"Yessir!"

_Thought the old fossil would never leave_. Tringham checked around cautiously, but there were no other curators, researchers or assistants around the wing where the big exhibit and gala fundraiser was to be held tomorrow night. "Mustang: The Man And His Time" and "The Elric Brothers—Legacy of Genius" would run simultaneously for the next six months before going on the road across Amestris. Already the ambassadors of Xing were negotiating for the rights to bring the show to their country.

_And they don't have a freakin' clue_, he mused to himself, taking a big bite out of Big Gran burger, dunking the greasy treat into a cup of Flame Alchemist sauce that was meant for the Not-A-Shrimp bites he normally snacked on from the food kiosk outside. _Good thing I got the goods out of Mustang's pocket before handing that damned uniform over to Dickless._

It was small jar of lubricating unguent.

And a lock of coarse golden hair, tied with a bit of red thread.

And a black and white photo taken of an unsmiling young man with sharpish features, captured off guard beside a seven foot tall suit of armor.

Hohenheim's stone had been moved to the Elric exhibit that morning, scrubbed clean and positioned behind the velvet ropes for optimal photo opportunities. Skinning under the barrier, Josh Tringham checked for guards. Then he dug in his pocket for the strange Lazurite stone, mounted in silver and gold, which he'd found among the boxed odds and ends from Mustang's Lair in Brigg's Mountain.

"All right," he muttered to the Stone as he laid the pendant against its cool, opaque surface. "Let's see what happens if you touch…"

_Goddamn, I thought Jeanne-Marie would never leave!_ Edward cursed under his breath as he tugged the khaki cargo pants over his automail leg. The fit was a bit slimmer than usual, and when he glanced at the tags on the waistband he understood why: the label read "Lady Adventure Petite". Resolving to kill his little brother slowly and painfully, he shrugged the light jacket over his black tank top and pulled protective gloves over the silicone sleeve he wore over his automail and his natural hand. Coiling his ponytail tightly, he shoved his mass of golden hair under a biker's bandana, then gave himself a once-over in the mirror. With his hair out of his face, his sharpish features were starkly detailed behind his rimless glasses with the hellishly expensive flexible temples. A few faint lines were etched around his tawny eyes—but that was Nature's only real concession to aging. _Christ, I'm older than some of the trees out there_.

Roy looked phenomenal for his age. Those muscles were as washboard-tight as they'd been when he was nineteen. Oh, there was the stray white hair, and laugh lines were starting to creep in a fraction around his keen black eyes, but other than that they appeared to be nearly the same age: about 35. _I haven't changed much. He will, eventually. I won't give a shit, any more than Al did when Winry started to age—but what if I outlive him, the way Al outlived his wife? _

It was a tricky issue that, so far, none of the Elric descendants had been able to deal with. Save for Alphonse and Winry, not one of their marriages had lasted. Sooner or later the aging issue got to be too worrisome and they split up. Teddy had at least a fighting chance, since Havoc knew the truth of Hohenheim's legacy to his descendants. But still—one day she'd be a seeming 40 year old, pushing her _younger_ husband in a wheelchair—or laying him under the dirt, as her father had done with her mother. _I want time to stop for a while. Let me love Taisa a few more decades—can't stand the thought of losing him…_

_No. NOT the sort of thing I ought to be worried about on the day before my wedding. No. Let's get up the mountain and check that fuckin' Portal Stone…and if it is working, maybe we can ask Heiderich about Fritz. He's not dead. He __**can't**__ be. Al's first grandchild. Winry went fuckin' crazy when Fritz was born. And his namesake—old Lang—I still have that picture of him with little Fritz in his arms, not long before Lang died. Fritz and Izumi are both grandchildren, although so far apart in age…weird. People aren't supposed to live that long. Guess that's part of the price we gotta pay for our sins…yeah…_

Swapping out his glasses for prescription shades, he slammed the door behind him, heading for the lobby. He was punching the elevator button for the lobby when a tallish man with a PRESS badge shouted "_hold the elevator!"_ and Ed slapped the hold button impatiently.

"Thanks! Sheesh, this place is a mess. Can't find anything or anybody and the staff is about as useless as our current Commander in Chief."

Ed snorted with amusement. "Yeah…so what are you tryin' to find?"

"I heard Ed Elric is staying here. Want to interview him about the whole McDonald scandal."

"McDonald scandal? What the hell is that?"

"Story we broke with that Nathan Greene. He's big press right now, Miss. Comes from a big money family—the Elric Foundation. Wrote some kid's adventure story that got to be damn near big as Harry Potter in Japan—must have made a fortune off the franchising rights. Anyway, he was up here last year, got into a fight on video with this Busbee McDonald—the guy who said he could cure homosexuality?"

Ed pitched his voice a half-octave higher. "I read about him in _The Advocate_. Didn't he have a heart attack?"

"Welllll….technically. But with all this attention from the World Wildlife Warriors about animal abuse and the DEA investigating about the misuse of crystallized toad venom, there's a question about whether McDonald died naturally or if maybe Elric poisoned him with venom. Traces were found in his bloodstream and Elric was the last one to get into an altercation with him."

"Maybe that Elric guy just wanted to be alone with his lover," Ed suggested, praying he could get out of the elevator before this fool from the press corps noticed that the lesbian in the elevator had an Adam's apple…and a respectable bulge in the crotch of his too-tight cargo pants.

"Yeah, well…with the political situation heating up, might as well catch the human interest side—by the way, are you here for a wedding? We're looking for some side shots on the whole lesbian wedding craze. What would your girlfriend say if we asked to take some pictures of the ceremony?"

"She'd beat the crap out of you—oh, there she is! Trish! Trisha! Baby, _where _ have you been??"

Ed shot out of the elevator, dove into his niece's arms and kissed her right on the mouth. "He thinks I'm a dyke—don't blow my cover!" he hissed.

"Hi there! Hunt's the name—Huntley Brinkley. _FOX NEWS_. Listen, we're doing some human interest stories down here at Hope Springs. Would you be willing---"

"Fuck off, mac. I wanna be alone with my wife." Hooking her arm around Ed's waist, she marched him off towards the door marked "LADIES", slamming it forcefully behind them.

"Caribbean days start _early_, mon," Paninya told Uncle Simon and Nigel as she refilled their cups with sweet, milky tea that was deliciously scented with cardamom and ginger. "Don't wanna waste the day, 'cause 'round three o'clock the heat starts to get to you. Wanna find a cool place to rest until around five—sixish. Then you want a cocktail, maybe a bite to eat. Don't start thinkin' about dinner till after nine."

"Sounds sensible to me—and this is genius, by the way. Never eaten cassava bread before." Nigel broke off another bite of the crumbly delight, crammed with dried cherries and chopped nuts.

"Yeah. Bringin' some island spice to the little gay boys come to get married here—you aren't like that beautiful Mr. Mustang, are you?"

"Me? Like Uncle Roy? No worries, darlin'. Straight up as me dad's pecker."

"Well, that be a relief—tho' I don't think he quite as queer as he makes out."

"What do you mean?" Simon asked.

"Well," Paninya looked around before leaning in close to dish the dirt. "You know that Miss Tricia. You seen her man. And I tell you—I may not have busted the top in math, but I do know that blonde-and-blue-eyes plus brunette-and-blue-eyes don't equal black-hair-and-slanted eyes. Seem to me that Mustang busted out of the rainbow stable and got himself some pussy."

Simon was not amused. "Miss Paninya, this is hardly anyone else's business—but for the record, little Izumi is adopted. Her natural mother is a young cousin of Roy's, and when he learned the child was going to be placed after birth he informed Miss Tricia and Mr. Havoc, who were very happy to welcome Izumi into their home. And I would consider it a kind favor if you would refrain from making inquisitive speculations about our family. Roy and Edward have waited a very long time for this wedding and I will not allow anyone or anything to ruin it for them. Do I make myself clear, ma'am?"

Paninya glanced above their heads and into the distance, smirking a little. "Oh, you don't need to worry about me flappin' _my_ mouth, Mister Simon. It's _them_ you gonna have to deal with."

"Who?"

"The rudeboys with the badges that say _FOX NEWS_, mon. The ones that lookin' for Little Rude Man Elric."

"_WHAT??"_ Nigel inhaled a mouthful of cassava bread and Paninya began beating him on the back. "Bloody hell—what do they want with Ed?"

Paninya's smile was all gold capped teeth and malicious delight. "You not readin' the gossip colums, mon? It was all over cable. Big fat bastard came up here few years ago, mon named McDonald. He come up here to make the queerboys stop suckin' dick and start eatin' pussy. Had these big seminars—used to rent the whole place out, mon. Year ago, that sawed off lil' man Elric, he an' Mustang came up here. Wound up in McDonald's lecture by mistake. Got into an argument—next thing you know McDonald's dead on the floor with his dick in his hand, you know? And Mustang's all pissed, say he leavin' Ed and get me a goddamned chopper outa here. Little Dick Elric, he come back, then he an' Mustang haul ass off the island on de same chopper has McDonald's body tied on the rack outside.

"Fella named Greene been on CNN an' FOX NEWS, tellin' everyone he think Ol' McDonald bought the farm at the hands of a certain runt who got himself in de news a few weeks getting' fucked by a ghost in some haunted hotel in Charleston. FOX NEWS gonna do a feature on the war with Jamaica—they find out that Elric be down here, getting' hitched to his lover—so they down here with bells on to do a scoop on him. If they can make it look like McDonald been murdered, they got one more reason to close me down, since the heat be on me already."

Simon and Nigel stared at one another in disbelief. "Load of codswallop, you ask me," Nigel muttered darkly. "And whatd'ya mean 'one more reason to close me down'?"  
As if to answer his query, every window outside was splashed with red paint as if on cue as a crowd began chanting outside _La Grenouille_:

_Two-four-six-eight_

_Keep those tree frogs off the plate!_

_Show compassion—show some class_

_Don't pour toadies in a glass_

_Set 'em free to catch their flies_

_Don't serve 'em with a side of fries!_

"PANINYA ! THE WORLD WILDLIFE WARRIORS FIND YOU GUILTY OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS! WE ORDER YOU TO IMMEDIATELY CEASE AND DESIST SERVING DRINKS BLENDED WITH LIVE FROGS AND WITH THE COVERT EXPORTATION OF EXTRACTED TOAD VENOM—"

"What the hell—Miss Paninya, is this true? My _god_, that's appalling!" Uncle Simon bolted out of his chair. "Nigel! We're leaving! Why…I'd rather eat at…_McDonald's_…than to let this…_blood profiteer_…make one more penny from the suffering of innocent animals."  
Nigel hesitated for a moment, then stuffed the last of the cassava bread in his pocket before blowing a kiss to the lovely—and seriously pissed—Ms. St. Dominic. "Sorry, darlin'. Let me know if you need bailing out—we've got a lawyer in the family!"

Simon jammed his new Panama hat onto his balding head—and walked straight into the prettiest Amazon he'd ever seen. She was tall. She was blond. She had a Glock pointed right between his eyes. "_Freeze, scumbag! _You too," she gestured towards Nigel. "Agent Hawkeye—DEA. What are you doing here?"

Nigel raised his hands, one of which held the last wedge of cassava bread. "Just came in for breakfast. Then somebody started throwing paint at the windows and—you know. Just don't shoot us, doll."

"And as a matter of fact, once I heard what they were chanting I told my nephew here that we didn't want any part of this restaurant if they're actually throwing live frogs in the blender to make Croaka-Cola. If you want to question somebody—" he gestured behind him, "I'd suggest beginning with _her_. Good day, Ma'am!"

"'Good day' my ass—_get 'em, men!"_

Forty-five minutes later, as Uncle Simon and Dr. Nigel Rogers were handcuffed together and bouncing painfully over the ruts of the unpaved jungle road towards Port Norman, a second Dr. Nigel appeared at the Hope Springs nursery and presented a set of credentials obtained when Gluttony broke into the good doctor's room minutes after the _real_ Nigel Rogers was hauled off with his uncle. "Good morning! I'm Dr. Rogers. Nurse Greene told you I was coming to pick up Izumi Elric, correct?"

The receptionist smiled. "She's a lucky little girl to have a pediatrician in the family."

"Not that she's a challenge—a very healthy little girl. Her mother and father are going on the zip line this morning and we decided to give her nanny a spa day. I told Tricia and Jean-Remy that I'd love to look after her since I live in Australia and don't get as much time with her as I'd like."

"That's fine—and everything seems in order. Miss Izumi is in crèche nine, and has already had her bath and breakfast. I'll get her diaper bag out of the check-in and then you'll be all set. Do you have plans for the day?"

"Oh…yes…big plans…._very_ big…"

"Al? Do a head count!"

"Teddy and Remy?"

"Ici!"

"Jeanne-Marie and Edwin?"

"We're here, cher."

"Mays, you're with me. And Ed and Taisa are together. All present."

Ed examined his checklist. "Okay. Izumi's in the nursery. Ai is at the spa center. And Nigel and Uncle Simon are on one of the fishing charters. Everybody's accounted for. Remy, you got our gear?"

"_Oui_. Harnesses, ropes, safety helmets and gloves."

"Teddy! Got our provisions?"

"Sandwiches, power bars—glucose tablets for Taisa—"

"---I've got extras—"

"—I know, but it's good to have backups. Got some of that sweet cassava bread for dessert. Mays and Daddy have the bottled water in their packs."

"Jeanne-Marie?"

"First aid kit. Remy got backups."

"Good. Communications gear?"

Edwin raised his hand. "Camcorder. Digital and film cameras. iPod and mics for sound. And I've got a sketchbook too."

"Everybody got cell phones?"

"YES!"

"Right…but what you don't have," Ed dug into his own pack, "are _these_." Ed handed each of them a slim, sealed envelope.

Teddy recognized them at once. "Edo—these are the ones we took to Amestris last time, right?"

"Yeah. And I want 'em back—_unopened_. "

"What are they?" Edwin wanted to know.

All eyes turned towards Edward, who colored slightly. "All right. These letters are from _me_. Private stuff you need to know if I die—or if you get stuck on the other side.

And one thing more—everybody got their passports?"

"What do we need our passports for?" Mays asked.

"If somebody gets stuck in Amestris, this will provide identification to the current government. If President Hawkeye kept her promise to Al, then there are records of his and Teddy's last trip through, when they arrived in 1951—and found the Colonel."

"I also have _this_." Taisa pulled the broken Portal Stone fragment that Win-Sarah and her brother had prized out of the walkway of the Battery Carriage House.

"Taisa—what the hell are you doing with that thing?" Ed barked.

"We might be able to send it back," his lover explained patiently. "Safer to have it in Amestris, since there are no Elrics there anymore to use it."

Ed nodded. It made sense. "Okay, people—We did the zipline drill yesterday. We'll take the bus up to the line and head for the canopy. We'll take a break at the halfway point—and do not take your gear off! And keep your helmets on or you'll lose your hair like Taisa did. If he hadn't had a knife—oh, right, shit! I forgot. _Weapons_. Who's armed?"

The two Havocs patted their belts. "I've…got pepper spray," Hughes offered sheepishly.

"That's about as useful against a homunculus as a can of Deep Woods Off," Ed snorted.

"Got that too."

"And I'll give you a merit badge when we get back in the states, Mister Eagle Scout. Okay, people," Ed nodded briefly. "_Let's roll!"_

AMESTRIS—PRESENT DAY

_Hohenheim's stone had been moved to the Elric exhibit that morning, scrubbed clean and positioned behind the velvet ropes for optimal photo opportunities. Skinning under the barrier, Josh Tringham checked for guards. Then he dug in his pocket for the strange Lazurite stone, mounted in silver and gold, which he'd found among the boxed odds and ends from Mustang's Lair in Brigg's Mountain._

"_All right," he muttered to the Stone as he laid the pendant against its cool, opaque surface. "Let's see what happens if you touch…"_

"CRAPSHITFUCKMOTHERPISSGOD_DAMN!_"

Josh Tringham jerked back in alarm as the security guard rounded the corner. "Hey kid! What the hell are you doing!" the guard growled.

"Found a wad of gum stuck to the array stone. Just picking it out." Turning his back for a moment, Josh spat a wad of spearmint into his hand, whipped around and then held it out for inspection. "Somebody's got a shitty sense of humor."

The guard grimaced and handed Josh a tissue. "I'll toss it for you. Y'know, you've been pretty good about this job here, kid. Thinkin' about coming to work here after you graduate?"

"Yeah…actually. I mean, my family's into green alchemy, but the history part is pretty cool."

"Yeah. And it's part of my family's history. That's why I took this job. My granddad used to work for General Mustang. Said he would have laid down his life for his men. Granddad would have been proud."

Josh was curious. "Who was he?"

"Heymans Breda. He was a military strategist, but he made his fortune designing games for us. He's the one who made—"

"—_Castles and Chimeras_. Yeah. Lived a long time, but man, he _lived_, ya know? He was the greatest. Mustang never once beat him at chess, but he came damned close."

The guard examined him closely. "How the hell did you know that?"

Josh looked embarrassed. "Worked on a project about Mustang for Dickerson. Read up on Mustang's team and recognized your grandfather's name. I play C & C online. Have a 15th level water alchemist. I'm on Server Argo---we play Monday nights when school's in session."

"I'm on Server Gambit. I play a chimera. Stop by some night."

Josh nodded. "Same to you. Okay if I finish up here?"

"Yeah. Fine. Holler if you need anything."

"Yeah. See ya."

Josh had to run and pee he was so terrified.

_What the fuck am I doing?_ he thought frantically, rinsing his hands in the washroom. _I don't wanna get busted again. Not when my grades are finally getting better and the old man's not ragging my ass over every damn thing. _

But the lure of that carved stone was more than he could resist. _That's a doorway to another Amestris…the door the Colonel went through when he died. And Alphonse Elric actually used this stone. THE Alphonse. Fullmetal's genius brother, the one who could split his soul apart, conjure the wind and water—some say he was more powerful than his older brother. And then there was the Spiral Alchemist—Al's daughter. She was like me—a raw beginner—until Mustang made her prove herself. And he made provisions for her as his disciple. If she showed up, she could take everything out of the exhibit as her right, since he left it to her. Wonder if any of her disciples are alive on the otherside?_

_And what about the Elric brothers? Did Fullmetal ever find the Colonel on the Otherside?_

Well…there was only one way to find out.

Ducking back under the barrier ropes, Josh took a deep breath and poked the lazulite stone into a crevice in the middle of the stone. The ladder beneath him shifted.

His right arm slid _inside the stone, _right up to his armpit.

Struggling for balance, he grabbed frantically for support.

His fingers found something warm and firm—a shoulder. They spasmed and gripped instinctively as the ladder began to rock dangerously.

It wasn't the nine foot drop that knocked the wind out of him. It was being flattened by the stranger who landed _on top of him_…the stranger who came out of the stone…

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	14. Chapter 14

Beggar's Banquet Ch 14

ON THE ZIPLINE ABOVE THE JUNGLE CANOPY

"_Ohshitohshitohshitohshit….dear god, if you let me get off this zip line alive I swear to Jesus I'll never suck another dick as long as I live!"_ Eyes tightly screwed shut, Mays Hughes was biting his lip to ward off the nausea and mopping the cold sweat out of his eyes.

"_Mon Dieu, Damballah doux, serpent d'arc-en-ciel--le Christ doux sur la croix--obtenez-moi le casser cette chose!!"_ Jean-Remy Havoc was silently invoking the Saints and his ancestors, making a concentrated effort not to think about the hundreds of feet of wide open sky between the soles of his hiking boots and the rocks below. His mother, Jeanne-Marie, kept her eyes riveted on the approaching base camp platform, shouting out encouragement to her son.

"WHOOOOAAAAAAHHHH! This is fuckin' _awesome!_" Edwin leaned in, eased up on his hand brake and swooped in close to Alphonse who was clearly relishing every moment of the zipline trek. Aunt Teddy, following behind, was laughing and breathless and Uncle Edward was shouting out directions from the lead with Taisa who was closing in on him.

"All right, listen up!" Ed barked as the family assembled on the 'rest stop' platform, three-quarters of the way to their destination. "I want each person to drink up and eat something—at this point your body needs at least one full bottle of water and we've got Cliff bars for everybody. I don't want anybody passing out up here. Especially _you_." He fixed his glare on his lover, whose blood sugar could be notoriously iffy from time to time.

"_God, _don't say 'cliff'" Mays rolled his eyes dramatically. "This has taken years off my life!"

"Don't be such a wuss," Taisa laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Easy for you to say—you've done this before," Hughes grumbled before grinning back at Mustang. Flipping open his Swiss Army knife, he scrapped at a tiny sliver under the pad of his left thumb—then froze. "_Alphonse…don't move!_"

"Wha---"  
Remy glanced up and paled. "_Mon Dieu!_ What the hell…?"

Between the words _Dieu_ and _hell_, Mays flicked his pocketknife and it landed point down into the wood less than an inch from Alphonse's left hand, neatly pinning the hideous insect that was about to bite him. Al looked down and grimaced. "Th-thanks, Mays. That wouldn't have killed me but it certainly would have hurt"

"What is it?" Ed demanded.

"_Damon diadema._ A whip spider. They hide under tree bark in parts of the canopy." Jeanne-Marie muttered a prayer under her breath. "Probably trying to warn us."

"Yeah. Warn us to get the hell off this platform and get out of here," Edwin shuddered. "What is it with you and spiders anyway?"

"_Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds in the sky. _And for me, the spiders in the bushes," she quoted sagely.

"Charlemagne," Alphonse nodded.

"By way of Indiana Jones. Appropriate as hell, considering the circumstances. And that was a damn fine throw," Ed added. "Not the first time I've seen you pull that trick. Ever win any prized at the fair?"

"He was the darts champion of our local league in college. Never had to pay for a beer his whole senior year," Teddy tossed Hughes an affectionate grin.

"Brother? Should we head on?" Alphonse asked between bites of Chocolate Chip Peanut Crunch.

Ed brushed a few crumbs off his chest and stomped on his empty water bottle, stashing the flattened plastic in his daypack. "I'm good but let's put it to a vote."

Everyone agreed it was best to move on, especially Hughes, who muttered something along the lines of 'the sooner we get up there the sooner we can get out and get back on solid ground."

ON THE PATH TO THE LAIR OF EYES-OF-GOLD

"_Shut it up_."

Envy looked up from the supine body of the young twink who'd just driven him up the twisting back path to the end of the zipline, along with Gluttony and an extremely pissed off Izumi Elric, who was half-apoplectic that her infant's body wasn't good for much more than pooping, peeing and screaming bloody murder at this moment. She couldn't fight back, couldn't protect herself, so she reasoned that shrieking could attract attention—and it was a small but satisfying victory when she spit up all over Envy's chest and overfilled a diaper so that it leaked down his skort.

"It _stinks!_"

"So do you, jerk—but at least we can do something about her." Jerking a sharp chin towards the diaper bag, Envy ordered his companion to dunk Izumi in a nearby stream run off and put a fresh diaper on her.

_Get your hands off my behind, you freak!_ The water was cold on Izumi's backside and she hated like hell being manhandled by someone who could pop her in his mouth like a breath mint. She sucked in her breath before she went under and swore at him as best as she could as he scrubbed her bottom with a wipe before pulling out a fresh nappy from Izumi's bag. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Gluttony looked positively clueless when confronted with a folded square of soft, absorbent cotton and a sealed packet of diaper pins.

Envy thrust hard again into the unresponsive body, which was not yet cold. "Goddamn it, isn't there a Pampers in there?"

Gluttony pawed through the bag. There was a sweet, warm smell—rather like honey and apricots—coming from a bottle labeled "Burt's Bees Baby Bee Lotion". Biting off the cap, he sucked it down and grimaced. "Nasty," he declared, chucking the bottle in the bushes. A squeeze bottle of the same brand of baby powder followed the lotion bottle into the bushes. Underneath that was an environmentally-responsible biodegradable disposable diaper. He jerked it up Izumi's tiny legs and hauled it over her bum, then wrapped her in a clean onesie that he left unsnapped. She was at least inoffensive to the nose, although the infant looked as if she would bite him if he even thought about any coochie-coo-type bullshit. "How much further?"

"Right around the corner. Shove a pacifier in her to keep her quiet so we can surprise them."

"She doesn't like it," Gluttony whined.

"I'd say break her neck, but we need her alive, for now anyway." Envy growled softly, shuddered and pulled out of his victim's body before stomping over to confront the whimpering child in Gluttony's arms. "Kid? I want you to watch _very closely_ to what is about to happen to our driver over there. If you don't want the same, you'll shut the hell up, _Mrs. Curtis_…"

Envy dangled the infant by her armpits and turned her tiny face towards the corpse just as Gluttony took his first bite….

PORT NORMAN, ISLAND OF RANAMURTE

"If you'll kindly excuse the vernacular, Mr.---?"

"—Please, call me Jack, Dr. Rogers—"

"—thank you. Jack, what the devil are you playing at?? How did you manage to—"

"---get the two of you out of jail in less than three hours when a rabid but beautiful DEA agent slaps the two of you in the slammer for suspicion of trafficking in hallucinogenic toad venom crystals?"

Dr Nigel Rogers slipped his arm around his uncle's shoulders. The dear old man was shivering and sipping from the silver flask of Napoleon brandy that the charming stranger had thrust into his trembling hands as soon as he ushered them in to the rented car. "It's not that we're not grateful, mate," the younger man began cautiously, " but other than seein' you chattin' up Hughsey on the plane over here, we don't know you from a sheep's backside, eh?"

The blue eyed Yank pulled over and shut off the engine, favoring them with a steady gaze that was as unnerving as it was charming. "Bottom line? I work for a research group with ties to the Elrics that go back before Edward and Alphonse came to the US. I know of them, but I've only met Alphonse once and he doesn't recall me. My predecessors in the UK were more familiar with their father. Hohenheim."

"Oi! Isn't he the bloke they call Eyes-Of-Gold around here?"

Their host nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "By all reports, Hohenheim was a very miserable son of a bitch. Lost his wife. Alienated his children—all three of them. Suspect that he was seeking answers thru the ingesting of mind altering chemicals, toad venom being the least toxic of the bunch."

"_Three_ children?" Simon looked confused. "I'm sorry—as far as I knew Edward and Alphonse only had one another."

"Wellll…that's the problem, gentlemen." Jack—or whoever the hell he was—scratched his head and his grin faded. "There's a half-sibling out there who makes Charles Manson look like the poster boy for mental health. Wilhelm's been having a high old time dragging Edward through the mud lately. Rumors running wild that Ed was tied to the death of James Busbee McDonald, that old cocksu—I mean, that dreadfully confused bastion of American Morality. I've seen the autopsy reports. McDonald had the venom of a _Dendrobates azureus_ on his hand, in his bloodstream—and more tellingly, on the door of his room _and_ smeared on his pantsleg at thigh level. Most likely senario was that Busbee found a frog on the door, swatted it, wiped his hand on his pants and probably dosed himself with his nitroglycerine and was too stupid to remember to wash his hands."

"Look mate, that's all very well—but what has that got to do with us getting' sprung?" Nigel wanted to know.

"Firstly—because you need to know the background of why Ed's being harassed—which also may have to do with why you got arrested, why the press is at Hope Springs---and why a bunch of toad lovers are currently firing paint canisters through the windows and chaining themselves to the front gate of the damned resort. It's a diversion. The whole absurd senario. All a ploy to harass Edward and Alphonse to head up that damned mountain and try…_try to leave._"

The Drs. Rogers exchanged baffled looks. "Leave? My dear boy, there's hardly a way off the island on the top of that mountain. Don't be silly! Where could they possibly go?"

The charming, albeit enigmatic man behind the wheel stared at them for several moments, then shook his head. "I'll leave those explanations to Edward. The second reason I got you out is because I saw you shoved into the squad car—and ten minutes later, Dr. Nigel, I saw _you_ walking out of the front gates with a small, squalling bundle in your arms, accompanied by a revoltingly corpulent gentleman dragging a diaper bag that I saw hanging off the arm of Trisha Elric when she registered her daughter at the nursery."

"Now, wait one damn minute—"

"_I know it wasn't you_. You were being finger printed and probed up the ass right about that time. "

"Then who the hell—"

"One of Wilhelm Elric's associates."

"Sir, if you believe someone has kidnaped Miss Tricia's daughter, then you have a responsibilty---"

"To tell the authorities? What—that a man who was about to become engaged to the gang in cell block F had run off with a child while the family was away up on a mountain practicing whatever voodoo those Resembool folks get into? No. I suspect the kid is a bargaining chip. She's useless dead. They won't harm her. Edward, on the other hand—his life isn't worth tuppence if Wilhelm gets a shot at him. Now," Jack turned back to the wheel. "What I'm trying to do is first get you and Ms Watanabe as far off the grounds of Hope Springs as I can. If what Hughes told me is the truth, you are all three very important to the Elrics---that makes you excellent hostages. Theres a small guesthouse about ten miles down the road. Ms. Watanabe is already there." He flipped them a cell phone. "Go ahead and call her. Speed dial 37."

Simon punched in the code. Ai had been waiting for him to call. "Go with Jack-san. He knows. He's trying to help Edo-sama and Arufonsu."

"Ms. Watanabe, are you saying you belive this nonsense?" Simon was taken aback, having always assumed that Ai was one of the most sensible people surrounding the Elric brothers.

"Simon-sama, I spent my girlhood as a _miko_ in a Shinto temple. Edo-sama and Aru-sama have not spoken to me of these things---but I have served this family for many years. My mouth is closed in respect but my eyes are always open. This is a good family, and they have things to do and people to protect. Jack-san understands. You must come so Roy-sama will not worry about you."

Watanabe Ai had spent countless hours dusting bookshelves, picking up piles of notes and inadvertantly overhearing high decible, one-sided conversations about alchemy whenever Edo-sama called his niece from Tokyo. She'd vaccumed in offices with diagrams of arrays pinned to the wall, re-shelved books by authors with names like Paracelsus, Israel Regardie and Manly P. Hall, as well as old cracked volumes in Hebrew, German and Arabic. Whatever arcane philosophies the Elrics embraced, they were fine people. Ai trusted them. She cared about them. And, yes, she'd come to love Alphonse dearly, in spite of his youthful appearance. They didn't appear to be aging, at least as far as she could detect. That was somewhat unnerving. But when he spoke so softly to her this morning, smiling down with those lovely bronze eyes, a part of her she had laid discretely aside began to stir.

She had no incense to offer, but there were flowers outside and a white ceramic mug made an offering cup . The water might be straight from the tap but a prayer offered to the _kami_ with a sincere heart would be heard. Lighting a tiny fire in an ash tray from bits of cardboard from a book of matches, the former priestess began to chant feverishly, chanting for the safety of her chosen family, for little Izumi and for the spirits of the ancestors watching over the Elrics.

She said the prayers.

She didn't expect the ancestors to answer her _personally_.

"_Gutenmorgen, Fräulein Ai. Mein Name ist Alfons Heiderich_…"

THE LAIR OF EYES-OF-GOLD

Sometimes, during the rare flashes of what could potentially pass for mild intelligence, Gluttony concluded that he didn't really _like_ Envy. Envy always associated killing with sex. That was wrong. Killing was about eating. Killing made _food_. Envy didn't make sense, and what didn't make sense made Gluttony uneasy. "Envy?" he ventured as they crouched in the bushes near the opening of Hohenheim's old stomping grounds. "Why don't you just let me eat him?"

Envy bounced a rock off his companion's forehead. "The pipsqueak's not afraid of dying, idiot. So death's no threat." Envy had killed Edward once. He had fucked him once, too, and was colossally insulted when Ed just lay there in his chains, _laughing_ at him. "Is that all you've got?" Ed snorted in disgust. "Now I know the _real_ reason they call you Envy!"

"No," he continued, gazing down at the angry wriggling armful of Elric in his arms that he had been forced to gag to drown out her screaming. "Best way to deal with the pipsqueak is to kill someone he loves—like that dimwitted brother of his, or Mustang. I'd let you snack on _this_ filthy little drooler, except that she's going to be useful. But she doesn't knock off the whining _right now_ I'll just chuck her off the rocks and we can use the one that looks like…_my father_. One sacrifice is as good as another, mmmmmmnnn?"

"Ed—did _you_ move this stone upright? Wasn't it down on the ground when we were here before?" Far as the Elric party could determine, nobody had been in Hohenheim's cavern since Ed last left it. The monitoring equipment was dusty but humming along as it should. Al had been by every three years to change the extended life batteries. The stone had been flat in the dirt but now balanced on it's rim, just as the larger stone at Orlando 5 had done.

"Okay—stay back, people. Don't know what the hell is going on, but this thing has been tampered with—and it's alive. Edwin!"

"Sir?"

"Get your digicam up and turn on the Ivory. I need you do document this for Denny. "

"Brother, this stone has already changed color. It's gone transparent, just like the stone did when Teddy and I were dragged through in Orlando." Indeed, the intricately carved stone disc had turned the color of muddy sea water and there were faint ghosts of movement from the other side. "Denny could hear the Colonel from the other side—we documented that. Should we try hailing them?"

Ed nodded. "I'll…." He flushed, cutting off his words.

Taisa's hand closed warmly over Ed's. "Call Alfons," his lover encouraged. "If anybody on the other side has your best interests at heart, it would be him."

Edward caught Taisa by the front of his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him swiftly. "He likes you too."

"I know. He told me."

A shadow loomed over them, accompanied by an odor like foul breath and rotten meat.

"_But __**I**__ don't like you at all. You killed Lust!_"

_Don't eat the Pipsqueak_. That was the warning Gluttony had gotten from Envy.

He didn't say a damn thing about not eating the Pipsqueak's _lover_.

"_Hey, Gluttony!"_ Envy waved from the mouth of the cave, Izumi Elric shoved under one arm like a football on Superbowl Sunday. "If you think eating Americans is great, you're gonna _love_ eating JAPANESE!"

Gluttony dove forward, tongue dragging the dirt, teeth gleaming obscenely.

Taisa Roy Mustang jumped out of reach, back against the Portal, just as a sunburnt hand broke through the shimmering green surface and latched onto his shoulder, hauling him backwards through the surface of the stone…

STATE MUSEUM OF ALCHEMY, CENTRAL AMESTRIS

_Ducking back under the barrier ropes, Josh took a deep breath and poked the lazulite stone into a crevice in the middle of the stone. The ladder beneath him shifted._

_His right arm slid inside the stone, right up to his armpit._

_Struggling for balance, he grabbed frantically for support._

_His fingers found something warm and firm—a shoulder. They spasmed and gripped instinctively as the ladder began to rock dangerously._

_It wasn't the nine foot drop that knocked the wind out of him. It was being flattened by the stranger who landed on top of him…the stranger who came out of the stone…_

"CRAPSHITFUCK!!!!" Josh Tringham was flat on his back. His ribs were bruised, his nose was bleeding and there was an…_ass_…shoved in his face. _Not_ female, to his great disappointment, although it did seem distinctly high, tight and well shaped…for a guy, that is. And since the ass was in his face, it was safe to assume that the other end of the stranger was located somewhere in the vicinity of his…

"Where the hell am I?" came the voice from his crotch.

"S-s-s-State Museum of Al-Alchemy. In Central," Josh added, giving the taut buttocks a shove and getting a knee in his ear as the strange man fumbled himself upright, inadvertently pressing his crotch against the horrified teen's forehead.

"_CENTRAL_??!?? _NANDA KUSO_!" The man shot to his feet, cursing swiftly under his breath in a language that sounded somewhat like Xingian. "Who are you?" A hand grabbed his shirt collar, jerking the boy roughly to his feet.

"Josh. Josh Tringham." The younger man shook his sandy hair out of his eyes—and then froze. _The eyes. That spike of hair, just like on the statue. That—that smirk. Holy freakin' shit, it's—_

"Josh Tringham?" The man shook his hand briefly before a massive, epicene _tongue_ poked through the stone and licked the side of Mustang's head. "Roy Mustang. Pleased to meet you. Now---_RUN LIKE FUCK_!!!"

"Run like _fuck!_" That was the order. And when a legend from your nation's past drops out of the air, squashes you flat, shoves his face into your junk, plants his ass in your face and then orders you to get off your butt and _move_, damn it, chances are you're going to do what he tells you unless you're a complete 'tard. That, at any rate, was how Josh Tringham had it figured, and when that _tongue_ poked out of the stone, dripping with odiferous slime, and started lapping obscenely at Mustang's rumpled black hair, all Josh could do was stammer "Yessir!" and haul ass behind him.

"What kind of lockdown can you put on that hall?" Mustang demanded as they slammed the doors of the Exhibition Hall behind them.

Josh stabbed a coded sequence into the key pad beside the entrance then wiped his forehead with relief. "That'll hold him, _Sir_."

His companion wasn't impressed. "'Until he figures out how to chew a hole in the wall. Damn, Ed! Didn't you plan for this?"

_Ed???_ Before Josh could respond to this jaw-dropping newsflash, his companion grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Is this really Amestris?"

"Y-yes. You're in the Alchemy Museum."

The man shoved his hand into the inside of his shirt and held up an envelope. "You need to get me to President Riza Hawkeye. According to Alphonse the first thing I have to do is provide my credentials so nobody tries to shoot or arrest me. Then I've got to---" There was a deafening belch on the other side of the door, accompanied by what sounded like the crunching of one of the Xingian Springs water kiosks in the main viewing area. Mustang grinned wryly and shook his head. "On second thought, maybe we need to get this little crisis under control." He glanced around, not especially frightened but hardly at ease. "Ed," he whispered, half to himself, half to a lover on the other side of the Gate, " don't do anything stupid—or is that too much to hope for?"

"Sir? Hate to break it to you, but Riza Hawkeye's been dead and gone since 1957. We've got a new president this year, President Priyanand. He's _Isballan_," he added, as if conveying news of great importance.

"What year?" Mustang demanded sharply.

"Two thousand one," Josh answered soberly. Recognizing that his companion would hardly know his way around, Josh gestured for Mustang to follow him down the stairs and then guided him to the right-hand gallery—the one hosting "Mustang: the Man and His Time". As soon as they passed the velvet ropes in the waiting area, the man beside him stopped dead in his tracks with a whispered exclamation. "Oh, god…._Teddy…_"

They had paused before a portrait of a bespectacled woman in red, brown hair falling over one shoulder, holding what appeared to be the wooden flute she'd brought back from Amestris. "That's the Spiral Alchemist. They did it from a picture Kain Fuery took of her. She was Alphonse Elric's daughter and the niece of Fullmetal. She's your disciple…right?"

"_Spiral Alchemist?!?" _Mustang stared at the kid as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "_Disciple_? Teddy?? That's ridiculous. I didn't train her—she trained _me!_"

Holy shit! "S-she taught you alchemy, Sir?"

Mustang looked annoyed. "Of course she did—do you think Ed and I could work together without killing each other?"

So that meant that Hohenheim wasn't the eldest of the clan! Clearly the history books had it all wrong. "I had no idea she was so _old_."

"And she'd knock the crap out of you if she heard you say that," Mustang snapped. "Why is her picture in a museum?"

Tringham was completely baffled by this. How could the Colonel have no memories of his one alchemic disciple or question the fitness of her portrait hanging here? Maybe when he fell out of the stone he'd jarred his senses loose or something. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm _fine_, damn it. And as soon as we figure out how to take out that monster I'm getting the hell out of here and going back home. No offense, kid, but everybody I care about is on the other side of that rock, not to mention that I'm getting married tomorrow night and Ed's going to think I'm backing out on---"

"Ed? As in _Edward Elric?_"

"Who the hell else would I be marrying?" He was starting to get angry now. "Ed and I have been planning this for months, but when Envy and Gluttony came after us—never mind. Now," he demanded, "any ideas where we can get our hands on some weapons?"

"Uhhh, that's why I brought you down here. I thought you'd want some of your stuff."

"Stuff??"

"Yeah. Gloves and shit. And your ring." Punching up the code, the security lights flashed from red to green and Taisa heard a faint _click_. "C'mon, sir," Tringham gestured for him to follow as he unhooked the velvet rope that barricaded them from the entrance.

The door hissed softly shut behind them. Tringham switched on the lights. Taisa sucked in his breath softly. "Oh. _Shit_." When he and his mother had moved to London to live in Uncle Simon's wonderful old house at No.11 Mecklenburgh Square (once the home of the famous lesbian scholar and historian Jane Ellen Harrison who wrote extensively about the Cult of the Great Mother in ancient Greece) in Bloomsbury, Taisa had complained bitterly about the cold, damp air and how homesick he was for Japan. "Home is what you carry inside you," Hikari told him quietly. "Home is wherever we are together. Anything else is just a house."

With the passing of time and the deepening of love, Taisa had concluded that any place he and Edward shared was _home_, whether it be a posh penthouse for _gajin_ business travelers in Tokyo or a tiny room in a run down Victorian boarding house shared with Teddy and Hughes in Berkeley. Now his lover was on the other side of the Gateway—and if he couldn't find a way back he'd never see Edward again. Amestris was a foreign land, however familiar it looked and smelled and sounded—and as soon as they figured out how to kill the ravenous monster that was tearing up the Gatestone gallery he would find some way to force his way back through and go home…

However, as soon as he stepped into the gallery and saw his old uniform on a beautifully detailed wax dummy of his previous self, the lights in front of his eyes began to swirl and fade. He didn't feel his knees strike the floor as he buckled, one hand pressed against the glass case that held his own likeness. "…_home," _ he whispered hoarsely. "Fullmetal? I'm home…"

RANAMURTE ISLAND, EARTHSIDE OF THE GATE

"_NOOOOO!"_ Edward dove frantically after his lover, fingers snatching at Mustang's boot heels. Taisa slid through the surface of the stone as easily as a hot knife through butter, Gluttony diving in after him, roaring in frustration, tongue flapping wetly around one corner of his mouth as if he could already savor the younger man's bones snapping crisply between his teeth. But before he could breach the stone itself, an obscene cackle made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. _"Hello, Pipsqueak!_"

"Ohhh, _fuck_!" Ed swore under his breath as he turned—and froze. _Izumi…oh god, he's got Izumi…_

"How long have you been planning this, Envy?" Alphonse demanded, fighting to keep his voice even. "You're pretty well equipped for this to be coincidence." Envy had thrown coils of rope at Edwin and Teddy, ordering them to tie up the Havocs and Hughes. Maes had been surprised that Teddy had gone straight to him and even more surprised when she leaned in and kissed him deeply.

"Sill have that knife?" she whispered urgently.

"Yeah."

"This is pretty loose. If you see a shot, take it."

"Yeah," he answered, kissing her for real this time. "Tell Gracia I—"

"_GET BACK HERE!_" Envy snarled, "I don't want to hold this brat any longer than I have to. It's disgusting. It _leaks_."

"She peed on you? Way to go, _Teacher_!" Ed smirked. "Now cut the crap and let her go. I'm the one you want." Ed was smiling now, arms open wide in invitation. "Still think you can beat my ass, _freak?_"

"Let her go, Envy." Alphonse was doubling up his fist and looking determined. "If it's a fight you want, Brother and I are ready."

There was something about Envy's smile that turned Edwin's stomach, looking at the four Elrics as if he were some great green-haired feline confronted with a quartet of mice. "Fight? Who said anything about fighting? This is my farewell party. I'm leaving Earth—"

"—good riddance," Ed snorted.

"—and this is my little…_going away party_. And guess what?" A straight razor flicked out of his pocket and hovered by Izumi's tender neck. "Your _mother_ is going to be the entertainment. _Tie her up, Ed_."

"So…Hohenheim's little whore. It's your fault he never returned to Dante. And if you hadn't fucked him, we'd never have had the Pipsqueak and the Tin Man. And in the end, you let Ed kill you, stupid bitch!. Worst of all," he gave Izumi a shake that made her whimper, " you're breeding more Elrics—and you've let Izumi Curtis back in the flesh again. So here's the question—what would you do to get the brat back?"

"Anything."

"Then…do _me._ And if you bite me---" the razor skimmed off a few silken black strands from Izumi's head, "my razor bites _her_, got it?"

Teddy nodded. She tossed a quick glance at her husband. "Il ne change rien, ma petite ange." _It changes nothing,_ he told her. "I will take her place if you choose," Havoc offered. "I am certain I can give you greater satisfaction. Her mouth is…rather small for you, no?"

Envy gazed down at his father's reborn widow and chuckled nastily. "I believe you're right, Lieutenant Havoc. Well then, I'll just have to give her a smaller serving of meat---I know….let's go back to your childhood, shall we?"

"Wha—what do you mean?" Teddy asked nervously.

"This is getting tiresome," Ed grumbled. "Look—you wanna fuck me again, take your best shot. Fuck me, fight me, whatever. You're wasting time with her and the kid, Envy." He was sweating now, sick at his stomach. If he could just goad Envy into turning on him, maybe he'd drop Izumi and Teddy could---

"I could see everything from the Gate, you know. _Everything._ I saw your brother jerking off with a _Playboy_ he swiped from under your dad's bed—"

"Al!" Ed forced himself to tease his brother, hoping to distract his captor. "So _that's_ what you were doing when Winry went to the bike drags, you horny bastard!"

"And your sister used to sixty-nine her boyfriends so she'd be a virgin on her wedding night—and Al, that wasn't strep throat she had in her senior year—it was the clap—"

"Ho hum, old news. Now, c'mon, _freak_! Forget the stroll down memory lane. Let's get to it!"

Envy's features began to shimmer and blur. "Now this kid was a dirty little girl. She got her period when she was 12, and she was so scared, because she thought she'd hurt herself. You see, Alphonse, your baby was a hot little slut like her mom, always looking at the boys. And one day when she was almost in junior high she found a bunch of old pictures in the attic. One of them was of a beautiful young man with flowing golden hair hanging all over his shoulders. It was taken in Munich—"

Teddy paled. "Don't—please!"

"She thought he was some cousin of yours, because she couldn't see the fake arm—"

"All right, that's enough," Alphonse shouted. "Leave my daughter alone!"

"And she got allllll flushed and excited. She stole the picture and took it to her room and looked at it for days…and then one night she swiped a flashlight, locked her bedroom door— and climbed under the covers—"  
"God damn you!" Ed made a move towards the monster but the razor was quicker. A tiny thread of scarlet appeared on Izumi's throat.

"—and she put her hand inside her pretty little flowered panties and found that the pretty blonde boy had made her all wet for the first time and that if she put her finger in while she looked at his picture it made it feel soooooo goooood…."

"_Don't let him fuck with your head, kiddo!_" Ed shot Teddy a desperate look.

"Mischief, it's all right, honey—" Alphonse's eyes shifted desperately from his child to his granddaughter, hoping to see the slightest opening that would allow him to rip Envy's head off with his bare hands without endangering either of them.

"So how about that, Pipsqueak? You made your father's whore come for the first time ever in this life. So it only seems fair that she returns the favor."

To his horror, Edward watched, dry mouthed, as Envy solidified into the form of the same eighteen year old Edward Elric that had been the lover of Alfons Heiderich in Germany…who had posed playfully for his lover's camera during a memorable hiking trip to the alps, shirt half open, hair unbound and smiling in invitation…

THE MUSTANG GALLERY, AMESTRIS

When Edward Elric's spirit had passed through the Gateway to be reunited with the Colonel a year before, he'd been reunited with his mother and his teacher. Alphonse had had a heartbreaking reunion with his dead wife, Winry.

Taisa Roy Mustang was nearly _decapitated_. A masked warrior, small and graceful, swept towards him, sword outstretched. " 下来，我的儿子! " ("_Get down, my son!")_ she shouted, swinging towards Gluttony. " 我以前杀害了您。 我再将杀害您! _" ("I have killed him before—I will kill him again!")_

A moment later he had fallen through the stone, landing squarely on top of a slender blond teenager who at least seemed to know how to get the hell around this place. His head had been somewhat lucid as they fled down the stairs and in and out of the galleries, but now his head was reeling again and for an instant he saw the masked warrior again. This time she spoke in Japanese. "_Take back what was your own, child. If you won't fight, you'll never see your loved ones again. Remember who you are."_

Another figure appeared beside her. Squat, dumpy and clad in a low cut evening dress, she flicked a cigarette in his direction. _"Listen up, Roy-Boy. I didn't make you but you're still __mine__, got it? There's nothing in this world—or any other world, damn it—that I wouldn't do for you. Now make me proud, kid."_

Then the old woman slapped him hard over the head with her jeweled purse. "_Now, WAKE UP, kid! You got amnesia or something?"_

Taisa shook his head and the world shifted into focus, more sharply than it had since he was born. Rising to his feet, he ordered his companion to unlock the case. "It should fit," he observed coolly, stripping the blue officer's uniform off the Colonel Mustang dummy and laying it to one side. "I'm as trim as I ever was."

"Get my gloves. Right pocket. Any chalk around here?"

Tringham was getting annoyed, being brusquely ordered around. Get my gloves. Find my boots. My pocket watch. My gun. "I suppose you want me to wipe your ass for you, _sir?_" he snapped, handing over the gloves he had fetched from the discarded pile of clothing. A small green object, flat and circular and trimmed in gold fell out of the middle finger. Josh leaned over to retrieve it."

"_Give me that! Now!"_ Mustang snatched it away, looking furious. "That's too dangerous for a kid to play with."

"What the hell is it, then?" Josh demanded.

"A _retanjutsu_ stone. Not a philosopher's stone, but an alchemically charged jade. My mother—my natural mother—left it to me."

"Your mother was an alchemist?"

"My natural mother, yes. She died. I was orphaned. I had no family here—I'm half-Xingian, you know. A very kind woman named Chris Mustang took me in and adopted me. She ran a lucrative business, a saloon and brothel. It was an educational experience, being raised with a dozen 'sisters'. My foster mother was also one of the most important underground operatives in the rebellion against King Bradley. The whole place was bugged, trap doors and secret exits everywhere. I had the run of the place as a boy."

"Yeah? So how'd you become an alchemist?"

"Natural aptitude from both parents. I played a prank and decided to try my hand at alchemy after serving drinks to a State Alchemist who was a paying customer. "

"_You…you served…drinks…in a whore house??"_

"When you're of age, look me up. My martinis are exceptional—not too dry, and I never bruise the gin." He tugged at his collar and adjusted his aiguillette. "Anyway, after I blew up the privy she gave me a good whacking, then found me the best teacher money could buy. Granted, he was half insane and eventually killed himself after doing something…despicable…to his daughter, Riza—"

Josh's jaw dropped to his knees. "P-President _Hawkeye??_"

"A few years older. Didn't think much of me then, considering my origins. He tattooed his notes all over her back. Disgraceful. She asked me to burn them off, but it would have killed her. When she was elected I told her there was no need for worries of invasion. 'Get the equations and arrays copied off your back by your senior alchemists and you've got the most dangerous weapons you need—and pray you don't have to use them. Speaking of dangerous weapons…" He pulled the gloves on smartly and tapped to fingers together. A finger of scarlet leapt about a foot in the air. "Rather like riding a bicycle, that," he smirked.

"You forgot your watch. And _this_." It was a small leather box containing a plain gold ring with a plain red stone. "Wasn't this the stone you used when you blew up all those cities and killed all those Ishballan people during the war?"

Mustang froze, the color draining out of his cheeks. "I…the…war? I…seem to remember something about…it's not too clear to me now."

"Yeah, don't you remember?" Josh was warming to the subject. "You were just about nineteen and a new major in the army. They sent you to Ishbal with Kimblee and Grande and Armstrong and Marcoh, and you five pretty much blew that country off the map. For years people hated you---shit, some people think you're still a mass murderer, but since you wrote your memoirs and helped with the peace initiative, and since everybody knew you were just following Bradley's orders and you killed the man with your bare hands, they—"

"SHUT UP! _That's an order!"_

"Hey, old man—I am not some fuckin' dog of the military! If you can make crispy critters out of Ishballan babies, the least you can do is torch that fuck upstairs so we can get out of here alive.!"

"Best way out?"

"This way, through the Elric exhibit," Josh muttered sourly.

They turned down the corridor and Mustang stopped abruptly. "Oh…_Maes_…"

It was a handsome portrait, accompanied by a display case of personal possessions, including a battered camera and a stack of photographs featuring a lovely young woman and a giggling little girl. Mustang pulled back his fist and slammed it into the glass, shattering it. Alarms began to screech as he reached inside and pulled out the blue uniform hat. "Yes…you didn't forget, did you?" Tucked inside was a tattered, crumbling photograph of two young men, one serious, the other grinning goofily and tipping his hat to the camera.

Tringham brazened it out and just _asked_. "You were lovers, right? You and Hughes."

"Yes."

"Did Kimblee catch you?"

"How did you know--?"

"Found the letter when I was going through your things. Where he said—"

"I remember what he said," Roy answered quietly. "I don't intend to discuss it with you."

"Well," Josh shot back, "want to discuss Edward Elric?"

"Edward," Roy answered proudly, "waited for me on the other side for the better part of his lifetime. And I don't intend to keep him waiting any longer."

When they reached the Elric gallery, Mustang paused for a long time before the wax replicas of Edward and Alphonse Elric. "Pathetic," he commented at last. "You've got the likeness but not the expression."

Edward's mannequin was posed with his arm outstretched, transmuted into a blade, teeth bared, looking fierce and cocky. "So—what's missing?" Tringham wanted to know.

Mustang's expression began thoughtful. "The kindness in his eyes," he said softly. "All that anger, that ferocity—he was trying to hard to hide the truth from all of you here."

"And that was--?"

"He was a sad, scared, lonely little boy who never meant to hurt his brother. He made a mistake that he has never forgiven himself for. All he wanted was his mother—and that wanting became an obsession. So he dressed in red, carried on like an arrogant, infallible boy-genius, cussed and shouted and had a chip on his shoulder as big as the whole damn world…when all he really wanted to do, at the end of it, was be safe at home with his mother and brother."

Taisa turned and wiped his eyes after a long moment. "My husband…_Fullmetal_. Don't ask me to explain him. And in the end, he got his wish. His mom came back, the one you call the Spiral Alchemist. His brother is with him, even now. And in time, he found me again. If I don't come back…Ed's going to get desperate again. I'm not going to let him be hurt any more. I'm going home, Josh. You started this mess. You triggered the Gatestone You're going to finish it. You're going to get that blood key—and you are going to send me home."

There was a crash in the stairwell in the corridor outside the Elric gallery, followed by a hungry bellow.

Taisa Roy Mustang pulled the ring with the red stone out of his pocket and jammed it on his gloved finger. "Well, Edward," he told the vacant-eyed mannequin, "I guess it's time for the Alchemy Exam…"

…………….TO BE CONTINUED…………….


	15. Chapter 15

Beggar's Banquet Chapter 15

"The memories of who and what we have been, age upon age, life upon life, sleep within us. In that moment when a living person passes through the Gateway, we close off those memories to protect our sanity but when we arrive on the other side those memories are restored to us. The dead who are reborn, however, are sealed off so tightly that only severe shock or trauma will cause them to surface. In most cases, this is a good and merciful thing—it is far wiser to be getting on with the life at hand. I know for certain that in my own case I would far prefer to be reborn _tabula rasa_—in the state of holy innocence—than be reminded yet again of the sins I have committed in all my many years…"

---_Van Hohenheim of Light_

Elric Family private archives

EARTHSIDE, AT THE RANAMURTE GATE-NOW

_I survived Hohenheim's neglect, and the pain of watching him withdrawing from his own sons. _

_I survived the war years. My sons never went hungry or unloved._

_I survived the agony of my illness, never giving my children cause to grieve or worry until it was simply impossible to conceal any longer. _

_I survived the hazards of passing into flesh again, of being born of woman so that I could find my sons again_

_If I can survive all that,_ Tricia Elric told herself as Envy reached for her, _then _this_ is nothing…_

And when he was done, she spat, once, upon the ground and stared up at him, her face unreadable. In fact, none of them had said one word. Envy couldn't fathom it. He had counted on the Pipsqueak screaming in outrage, to come up off the ground swinging, ready for the fight he'd anticipated for so long. He'd chosen his victim with great care, for the greatest effect it would have on the little bastard. He'd even considered buggering Alphonse but it might have been risky and it could have cost him his hostage. Since all the troubles began with the attempt to bring Tricia Elric back from the dead, it seemed like a delicious idea to skull-fuck their mother in front of her sons, even better to assume Edward's form and voice as he violated her.

The bitch had done as ordered—and when it was done she spit his seed in the dirt and sat back on her heels, meeting his eyes with cold contempt, He raised one foot, planted it between her breasts and _shoved_. She toppled over backwards at Edwin's feet. The brat caught her tightly in his arms, blotting his tears on her hair. "Ohhh, Tricia….I'm so sorry," he whimpered, just as…

…just as _Hohenheim_ would have done. "Get over here," Envy hissed, trembling with sudden elation. "If I didn't know the bastard was dead I'd swear—"

"ENVY! You've had your fun, now," Edward shouted desperately. "Hell, I'll even give you a free shot. C'mon, this is getting old. You wanna fight? I'm the one you hate so goddamn much, now that Dad's dead—"

"_Save your breath, son."_ Edwin Hohenheim Elric, age fourteen, rose to his feet with a weary little smile. "_I'm_ the one he wants."

AMESTRIS—NOW

"You'd better make a run for it." Taisa Roy Mustang tore his eyes away from the museum map and glanced quickly at Josh Tringham, fidgeting nervously beside him. "If I can lure him down to the restoration lab there's bound to be plenty of volatile chemicals."

"What—what are you going to do?" Josh demanded. Mustang was looking unnervingly calm. "You're not going to blow this place up, are you?"

One corner of Mustang's mouth arched slightly in amusement. "I'm open to suggestions, presuming you have any. No? Then we do it my way."

"B-but—you'll never get out of there alive."

"That's a possibility."

"I know all the back passages through the whole place, including the garden."

"And as soon as you scribble them on this map I can lure Gluttony down to the lab and finish him off." A part of him felt physically ill. The kid was right. Blowing up the lab gave him little hope of getting out of there alive. _I'll never see Edward again, not in this life. I'll miss the wedding and he's going to be righteously pissed. _ But this monstrosity had come back to Amestris because of him, so it was his responsibility to blow Gluttony straight to hell—or to the Gateway, which ever was his final destination.

Josh straightened his shoulders stubbornly. "Nothin' doing, Colonel. And you're right—it is all my fault."

Mustang was adamant. "Now, listen to me—"

"_You took Edward Elric as a State Alchemist when he was only twelve. I'm seventeen. I'm not a child. And you don't know this world anymore."_

They glared at one another for several long minutes before Roy shook his head in resignation. "I suppose it's pointless to suggest what a loss this would be to your parents if you get yourself killed."

"No worse than it would be to Ed and everybody you left back on Earth."

Mustang rumpled his hair in frustration. "_Fine_. Now, here's my plan…"

HOPE SPRINGS RESORT, RANAMURTE

"Fuck my blessed Aunt Nelly, but this is too ugly for words!" Paul Youngblood was scrubbing the spatters of rotten egg off the sleeve of his jacket and spritzing FeBreeze frantically in all directions. "Somebody get that crazy bitch out of here!" By 'that crazy bitch' he meant the lovely DEA agent who was firing off rounds over her head. "She's cuffing every faggot in sight, darling, and it's bad for business. And if I can't get the stains out of this silk I'll scratch her pretty eyes out!"

Paninya wasn't listening to anything but her radio. She was frantically stuffing wads of cash from the safe into a briefcase and deleting files off the network. "Hello, Skipjack? The tennis court is all clear. I'll be out there in two minutes."

The radio crackled back. "That's a negative, Miz P. We got Martina Navratilova hosting a backhand stroke clinic out there. You got to get them out of there, ASAP."

Paninya snapped the briefcase shut and stuffed a usb flash drive into her pocket. "Damn Martina!" she growled. "Who gives a rat's ass if you knock a few silly bitches on their asses? _They're only a bunch of dykes!"_

Only a bunch of…_DYKES???_

Paul Youngblood, formerly of American Airlines, currently serving as wedding consultant for Hope Springs Resort, mentally scratched his present job off his resume. His hand slipped into his desk drawer and into his pocket before he turned to Paninya with the most charming smile he could manage while fantasizing about feeding her to the legendary _Beelzebufo_. "Sweetie, ask Skipjack to give me five eensy minutes to get everybody out and he can land, 'kay? I'll make sure you can get to safety."

"Now, if only I can remember my hanky code," he muttered frantically as he checked his breast pocket. "White means 'parley' or 'surrender', right?"

'Give me a hand, mon." Skipjack's co-pilot had leaned down to grab the brief case full of cash and evidence, but Paninya was struggling to climb up into Skipjack's decommissioned Huey helicopter. She'd gestured for Paul to give her a leg up, since Skipjack hadn't actually touched ground, only lowered a rescue ladder to about four feet off the ground.

"No, precious. There's been a tee-nincey _change in plans_." A pair of steel handcuffs, tastefully decorated with pink leopard-print velvet, snapped on her wrists, the other side clicked shut around the rungs of chain ladder. "_Agent Hawkeye?_" he called gleefully, "I'll take that reward in non sequential bills, please!"

The blond grimly nodded, approaching the tennis court at a dead run. Paninya appealed to Skipjack's sense of greed. "You can have every'ting, mon. All of it. Jus' get me out of here!"

"Okay, Boss Lady. Hang on!"

"Ohhh, _merde!_ Come back here, you back stabbing bitch!" Paul shouted as the Huey lifted off, his former boss hanging on for dear life to the bottom rungs of the wildly swinging ladder. "She's getting away!"

"The hell she is!" A bullet pinged thru one side of the ladder, causing Paninya to scrabble wildly to the broken chain. "He'll be forced to land. He's not going to let her fall to her death."

Paul grinned as the Huey headed out towards the docks and open water. "That's all _you_ know, babycakes."

Hawkeye stared at him in amazement. "Still," she confirmed, "she's cuffed to the ladder. She'll be bruised but she won't fall."

Paul covered his face in embarrassment. "Ohhh, silly me! Here are the cuffs you handed me. I'm afraid I had my own in my pocket. They cost me a fortune at Lucy's Manhattan Love Emporium."

Hawkeye's jaw dropped several inches. "_Fetish_ cuffs?? My god, man—those are designed to break away for safety!"

"Ooopsie. _My bad_." Hands in his pockets, Paul strolled off towards the paint splattered wreckage of _Le Grenouille_, humming an old Jimmy Buffett song:

"_She got fins to the left, fins to the right—and she's the only bait in townnnn…"_

AMESTRIS—NOW

_There he is!_ Gluttony's stomach rumbled with delight as he spotted a familiar black haired man standing in the open doorway labeled "RESTORATION LAB"

A voice echoed around him through the overhead speakers. "Hey Gluttony—_EAT ME_!"

Tongue rippling behind him, Gluttony barreled up the hall and dove towards the man in the cargo pants, mouth open, arms outstretched..

From behind him, Taisa Roy Mustang raised his hand, concentrated on the gleaming red stone on his middle finger, and then _snapped_.

_Ka-FOOOOOMMMMMMMMMmmmm._

The entire left wing of the complex, including the lab, the gift shop, the food court and the FueryMax 3-D Theater had been reduced to cinders.

"I…I think I just pissed on myself," whispered Josh Tringham.

Taisa mopped the sweat off his forehead and grinned. "Me too."

"Nice view of the garden, What's left of it, that is."

Far off in the distance came the frantic honking of fire trucks and squad cars, their lights flashing blue and red on the horizon. "We'd better get back to the gallery and get you home, sir."

"Not so fast. You see a body anywhere around here?"

"N-no."

Mustang frowned. "I remember it took more than one shot to kill Lust," he muttered half to himself.

There was an earsplitting roar to their left in the statuary garden. Josh's favorite snack kiosk, the one that served those tasty Not-A-Shrimp Bites with Flame Alchemist Sauce was being gulped down as fast as Josh would down a cold bottle of Louis Lime flavored Strong Ade.

"JOSH! Come back here!" Before Mustang could stop him, the boy had dashed out of hiding. Snatching a half-empty bottle of Strong-Ade out of a nearby trash bin, he chucked it at Gluttony's head, then whistled sharply.

"Hey, _FATASS!_ Ya eat too much of that junk food it's gonna give you the most _epic_ farts in the history of the free world!"

"Huhhh???"

The behemoth lumbered around just as Josh shot behind the solid bronze statue of the Flame Alchemist with its eternal flame dancing on the statue's gloved fingertips. "Hey! Over here, _fatass!_ Got something crunchy for ya!"

Gluttony pounced.

Josh dove behind the seven foot bronze of Alphonse Elric. "ROY! _NOW!!!_"

"Owww…fuck, my head hurts…" Worse than the throb in his head was the ringing in his ears from the roar of the explosion when the Colonel had blown up his own gas-powered statue—and the propane tank that fed its perpetual flame.

The museum was crawling with firefighters who had abandoned the smoldering wreck of the left wing and were now stampeding through the garden, tying to put out a twenty foot high column of fire where Roy Mustang's statue used to be.

Mustang had hauled him clear and, after consulting the map, ducked in through the still functioning service elevator on the right side of the main building. Dodging security, they made their way through the corridors towards the Gatestone Exhibit. "Hang on a second, Roy," Josh told him, ducking down the hall towards the Elric display. There was a loud crash of glass and another alarm added it's noise to the cacophony. "_Here_. Take this with you." A parcel shoved in a plastic envelope was shoved into his arms. "Get this back to Earth. It's…for Edward."

Roy nodded and shoved it inside his uniform jacket. "Key's still in the stone. If my theory's right, then all I need…is _this_."

_On Christmas Eve, 2007, Edward Elric sat down at his desk while his lover slept on the couch nearby. He was drowsy and peaceful from lovemaking, but he had forced himself to slip out of Taisa's arms long enough to add a few lines to the letter that he'd kept sealed in the family vault, the letter he was to take with him if he ever traveled near the Gatestones again._

_His eyes darted away from the original missive. Hard to believe he'd written anything so raw and intimate and tender to the man he routinely addressed as Shithead and Asshole. The fine parchment had cockled slightly and the ink was blurred in a few places where the tears had dripped down his cheeks and stained the document. He had actually signed it in blood, nicking his finger with a sterile needle. _

_Tonight while Taisa slept he thought of the newborn down the hall, snuggled safely in Alphonse's arms. A child conceived of Elric blood by a Mustang…_

"_One thing more, my _shujin (husband)_—promise me that if you are on Earth and I'm dead that you'll watch over Izumi. I know you'd do it anyway, but the truth is, she's not just Teddy's child…she's yours and mine. She's the child we can't make between us and she was born of our love for each other. Every time I look at her, it's not the Colonel I see—it's _you. _I can't tell you what it means to know that a part of you will live on after time has taken us away from each other, even if we know we'll find one another again. That child means everything to me. Please keep her safe—she is the proof that even love like ours can survive in spite of Fate's best efforts to keep us apart… _

His throat was tight as he refolded the envelope and stashed it inside his jacket beside the parcel Josh had given him. He held out his hand. Josh took it. "I'd get out of here if I were you. Have a good life, kid."

"Hope you get home, Sir. "

"Don't hope. Believe it." The older man snapped to salute, stepped through the wreckage where the stone had toppled flat on the floor. Without hesitating, he knelt down, took the blood-signed letter that Edward had given him and pressed it into the fissure in the stone's surface.

The building _rocked_. "What did I tell you?" a voice echoed in the blinding light. "I SAID, _run like fuck_!"

EARTHSIDE, THE RANAMURTE GATE—NOW

"You?? _Hohenheim??_ Don't jerk me around!" Envy spat. "You're just a punk kid, and probably not half as good a fuck as your father was after I killed him. You're useless." One pale hand hoisted Izumi, dangling her by the back of her onesie. "This filthy little brat is at least good for one thing. Hey Pipsqueak—remember what our father said about everybody having a Gateway inside us? Remember Rose's brat? Dante used that child to open the Gate. Alchemy doesn't work here—so we'll try _blood magic_ instead…"

Flicking his razor in the air, he morphed back into the familiar shape of a certain well known actor. "Swing your razor wide, Envy!—"

"—oh god, no…"

"---see it glint and shiiiine!"

"—_ENVY! You bast_—"

"…sink it in the blood that flows from _HOHENHEIM…"_

…_.To Be CONTINUED…_


	16. Chapter 16

Beggar's Banquet Chapter 16

The light was as she remembered it, thick and golden and vaguely opaque, the air sharp and sweet as October in the hills and sheep meadows of Resembool. She'd spent some time there with the Rockbells, recovering her strength before boarding the train with Sig and Alphonse and Mason back to Dublith to resume the boy's training in the art and science of alchemy. _I just left here, I think_. Odd. A blink of an eye, really. Only she'd been in the flesh again and wore again the shape of an infant. She found that annoying, but no worse than that. The memories of a tender brown haired woman and a devoted blue eyed man were still in her waking awareness. She'd been torn out of their arms so soon…too soon.

_Nothing ever goes as we plan, Mother,_ she sighed. Tricia would be inconsolable, and she was grateful for once that the Elric brothers were safely on the Earth side of the Gateway where the temptation to try to bring her back through alchemy would be thwarted by the laws of that world.

As the massive Gate creaked open, she turned to see a boy emerge. No—not a boy, but one not long out of his boyhood. Twenty summers, no more than that, surely. He still wore the uniform of an Amestrian military cadet, and his cheeks had lost all of the dreadful gauntness of the last decade of his mortal life.

She stumbled towards him, and he caught her as she fell, cradling her against his chest. She had forgotten, oh, only for a moment, mind you, how terribly small she was right now, and how vulnerable.

*_It's all right*, _he assured her. *_You've just forgotten. That's hard to imagine, though. You've only just left us here.*_

_*****__Please__*****_she begged, *_You have to send me back.*_

He shook his head, smiling a little**. ***_I'm sorry, child. You, more so than most, should understand the truth of Equivalent Exchange.*_

_*Mother needs me. And Edward and Alphonse are depending on me to help keep the knowledge of alchemy alive on the Earth side. You have to help me.*_

_He laid a gloved hand gently over her eyes.*I –am- helping. Even if there was a way to go back to Earth, you don't have the strength. You've undergone the trauma of murder. If you want to try and get back to the Elrics, you'll have to do as I say for now. And for the moment—* he sat down and draped her across his lap, pulling the folds of his black overcoat around them both * --I want you to sleep.*_

_*But if I sleep, I'll forget them.*_

_His voice purred pleasantly in her ear as he rested his cheek against her silky black hair. *It's a possibility. Depends on how strong your will is to be with the ones you love. Your love for the Elrics. Your love of Sig and Wrath. Ultimately, it's up to you alone if you find them again, just as it was up to me to find Edward. Nothing's impossible, and time is of no consequence…so close your eyes now. Rest and heal.*_

_*Yes, Father…*_

AT THE GATESTONE, RANAMUERTE

The only thing—the _only_ thing—that had kept Edward from trying to sever Envy's loathsome head from his shoulders with his bare hands was that he was terrified of harm coming to Izumi. But with one slash of a pitiless blade the infant had stepped forever beyond the homunculus' grasp, Tears slid down his cheeks as he took grim comfort that since Izumi couldn't be hurt any more it freed him to find out once and for all if one of these monsters could be killed for good on this side of the Gateway.

"Al!" he shouted, "Stay back. He's _mine_. Take care of the others."

"Brother! No!" Alphonse pleaded. "You can't—"

"I _will_." His eyes flicked towards Edwin, who was clinging to a wildly struggling Teddy. She was trying to fling herself towards the creature who had just snuffed out the life of her child, so enraged she was beyond grief. "He's going to be _my_ sacrifice—for Izumi. A life for a life." He managed a bitter smile. "Then I'm going in and getting that son of a bitch Mustang back. If he thinks I'm putting off our wedding tomorrow, he's got another thing coming…"

Envy grinned nastily. "You think you can take me out, Pipsqueak? Fine. I'll fight you—_at the Gate!"_ The razor flicked again. A drop of blood touched the surface of the Gatestone. It flared to life , just as it had when Josh Tringham had touched the Colonel's blood key to the stone at the Alchemy Museum on the Amestris side of the Gateway.

He held his prize aloft with one hand, razor swinging wildly in the other. "Come on! You want what's left of your precious brat? Come and get her, Pipsqueak. Or," he leered at Teddy, "maybe I'll take her back and feed her some red stones. Lust is still around—but there hasn't been a Sloth since Edward killed you the last time, _Tricia Elric_. You wanted your brat to follow in your footsteps, right? So let's see what kind damage she can do to this world of yours as a homunculus!"

"_Nein! Das ist genug! I will not allow you to harm my loved ones!"_ Alphonse Elric spun around." What the—"

Wholly transparent now, the stone framed a tall, fair-haired man whose fine features were twisted with fury, fists pounding against the surface as if he would burst between the worlds and rip Izumi's killer to bits.

_Alfons…my god…it has to be!_ Alphonse couldn't tear his eyes away from the shimmering figure with the blazing eyes. _Alike—but not alike. My god…he's been watching over us all along, trying to help—but there's nothing he can do._

"What the hell?" Envy glanced over his shoulder, saw Edward's old lover and laughed so hard his wicked lavender eyes began to glisten. "Ohhh..that's perfect! Look who's run to rescue! Not only are you a pipsqueak, you're a _brotherfucker! _Tell you what—I'll make a deal with you. I'll give you _this—_" he gestured towards Izumi with his razor, "---if you give me a little demonstration of _brotherly love_. C'mon…you can't tell me that every time you sucked on that piece of German sausage you weren't fantasizing about your own little brother. Hmmmmm? Admit it, Edward. God, you're sicker than _I_ am, and that's saying a lot. "

"_It's a lie._ Ed knows it—and _I _ know it." Alphonse held out his hand to the doppelganger who could now see him clearly through the stone. "And _he_ knows it too, now. So don't even try it. I'm sorry, Mischief," he turned to his daughter, still fighting against her restraints. "You've lost the most important thing in the world—you've lost your child, and there's nothing we can do to bring her back. But what we aren't going to let happen—" he nodded to his brother and to Alfons, "—is allow this son of a bitch to make her into something inhuman."

Edward didn't turn his eyes from his enemy. "Teddy—Remy, I swear, he'll have to kill us both before we let that happen."

The razor flickered as it spun through the air, sinking into Al's shoulder. His cry of pain distracted Ed for an instant. When his eyes turned back to Envy, something red was sparkling between his fingers. "Open up, kid," Envy jeered at Izumi, holding the stone to her cold lips. "I hear there's a story in this world about a man who could raise the dead back to life. I guess that makes me a Messiah around here, huh?"

_THOKKKKKKKK!_

The handle of a Swiss Army knife sprouted between Envy's brows.

Hughes had finally gotten himself loose. "One shot in a million," he panted half to himself. "Had to make it count this time…"

It wasn't a killing blow. It couldn't be. Edward knew damn well it was a useless gesture. Only a fragment of Envy's own original body could be used to bring the monster down.

Stunned, Envy staggered backwards, leaning against the stone as he scrabbled angrily at the blade lodged in his forehead. A pair of translucent hands slid through the surface of the stone and locked themselves around Envy's throat, yanking him backwards. "NO!! God, Alfons! What the fuck are you---"

"_Er ist meiner, dieses_. I learned much of your alchemy, between the worlds. I learned it from Izumi. She taught me how to fight—" Envy was flailing and spitting curses as he sank beneath the surface, "—and you, _meine lieber Freund_, taught me to be _stubborn_. Leave him to me!"

And they were gone, along with the moral remains of Izumi Jean Elric.

INSIDE THE GATEWAY

"_Great_. Now what?"

Taisa Roy Mustang scratched his head and stared around him in disgust. The smoking ruins of the Alchemy Museum of Central had vanished. So had Josh Tringham. Hopefully the little idiot had run for it.

Unlike the Shinkansen stations, there were no handy-dandy "You Are Here" guides to show him around. Nothing to show the novice traveler the ins and outs of the Gateway. And speaking of ins and outs, he'd better get his ass back home before the wedding tomorrow evening or there damn sure wouldn't be any in-ing and out-ing with his gorgeous and infuriating husband-to-be. "Little bastard might do something stupid and desperate and try to force his way in after me. Better get back before Ed winds up in some third unidentified space time continuum with his head jammed up his rectum.

Glancing around quickly, even though there was nobody around, he clicked his heels together three times. "There's no place like home." _And home is wherever Edo is…_

STATE ALCHEMY MUSEUM, CENTRAL

"_Run like fuck"_, Mustang told him as he disappeared through the Gate Stone. Not a bad idea, but not as damned easy as it sounded. The power was out and there was only the reddish glow of the safety lights to guide him towards the fire exit.

He'd run down one level before a muffled explosion filled the stairwell with flames. "Crapshitfuck! I gotta get out of here!" Stumbling through the first door on his right, he found himself in what was left of the restoration lab where Mustang had fooled Gluttony into attacking his own mannequin dressed in the civilian clothing he'd worn when he fell through—correction, when Josh dragged him—the Gate. The dummy was gone. So were three of the walls. Josh staggered through the smoke towards the gaping hold in the side of the wing. Glancing down about a story and a half, he calculated whether he'd prefer to break his neck risking a jump into the relfection pond or getting charbroiled like an Ishballan during the Colonel's war years. He was about to look for a third option when something greenish and vaguely glowing shifted under his left shoe. It was a flat stone, roughly as large as his palm, and in the flickering light he recognized it as being made from the same damned material as the big Gatestone I the gallery. "If it's glowing, that means somebody's using it—maybe I better go back. Aw, _shit!" _The building _rocked_ and flames and smoke began licking the edge of the shattered windows. The fires from the Alchemy Garden had reached the propane lines that fed the torches around the reflection pond as well as the Colonel's statue, plus the gas grills in the food court. The Museum had just turned into a bomb. "Fucksake, Kimblee couldn't have done a better job," he swore and stumbled back up the stairs to the Gatestone Gallery. Crawling his way through the smoke, he tripped and landed face down on top of the stone, scraping his shins raw. He began slapping at the cool surface frantically. "Hey! _HEY!_ Somebody! Anybody! You gotta let me in there---I'm gonna die in here! Mustang..MUSTANG, you bastard! Come back here!!! _CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME_??"

THE LAIR OF EYES-OF-GOLD, RANAMUERTE

Soon as they were untied Teddy and Remy flung themselves at the stone, screaming for Alfons. _Give her back! _they cried, _please, oh god, Alfons—give her back, take us to her…please…ohh god…mon dieu…my baby, oh, Izumi…_

_And this is my fault. All of it. Dad is dead. Izumi—fuck, he killed her like a damned animal! And Aunt Tee—what she did—she did that for her daughter's sake…_

_Tricia…oh, my love. Maybe you don't want to remember what I can't forget. You've found Havoc. You were so happy with him and your baby. And once again I've torn your world apart, made my family suffer…_

They had finally withdrawn from the stone, the little knot of family huddled together and sobbing, Alphonse with his arms locked around both his daughter and son in law, Edward screaming and cursing in fury at Alfons for not leaving Izumi with them, Hughes holding up Jeanne-Marie, who had become deathly pale from shock as if the old woman's heart was about to burst, filled to the brim with more ugliness and horror than she'd seen in all her many years. _You wear a different face this time, Pinako, but I'd know you anywhere. You saved Edward's life, gave my son new limbs and a grandmother's love and a home. And in this life, for a little while, you knocked some real sense into me. _

_Thank you, Pinako, old friend._

_Thank you, my sons, for giving me another chance, even if I blew it yet again._

_Thank you, Nash, old friend, for being my father. I'm sorry I let you down._

_Edward…Alphonse…you are the reason I will never quit trying to make amends for all the damage I have done on two worlds…Ohhh, Tricia…_

"_WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING_??"

"Edwin! Get the hell away from—ohh god, put down the knife—"

Edwin Hohenheim Elric was smiling now. "Everybody is born for a reason," he said slowly. "I remember mine now. Edward," he turned to Tricia's firstborn son, "It was no sacrifice in Munich to die the way I did. It brought you and Alphonse—" here he smiled at his youngest child, "—together again. Now I'm going back for your sister, for Izumi—Tricia…forgive me…"

He make a small gash in the palm of his hand, slapped both palms together and laid them on the stone.

"_MY LIFE FOR HERS….MY LIFE FOR IZUMI'S. I INVOKE THE GREAT TRUTH OF EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE!"_

And he was _gone…._

THE LAIR OF EYES-OF-GOLD

"I want you to listen very, very carefully to me."

Hughes took Tricia's hand. He took Havoc's hand, kneeling before them in the dirt and blood in the horrible silence that followed Edwin's—no, _Hohenheim's_—disappearance through the Gatestone. "Envy killed Ed in Amestris. Stabbed him clean through the heart. Al, you saw him die, right? And you sacrificed yourself to bring him back. Ed?" he glanced briefly over his shoulder, "You gave up your life for Al's. You would up here. And Edwin just gave himself to the Gate to get Izumi back. Truth is," he smiled faintly up at his friends, "we don't know _what_ is going to happen, but I do know this: Two innocents have just gone through the Gate—and I'm not willing to assume that they won't come back. Taisa is over there now. Ed, you know what a pigheaded son of a bitch he is. He'll be back, and if there's a way for Izumi to return—and Edwin, too—he'll find a way. Now, Teddy—" he gently wiped the tears of her cheeks, "—if you've learned any damn thing at all, then you've learned that this death business doesn't work quite the way they taught us in Sunday school…oh, that's right, you're an _Elric_. Elrics don't go to Sunday school, they go to chemistry class…c'mon, now that was almost funny, but I'll forgive you this time for not laughing. Baby, I know it hurts—hurts you both. But if I'm not willing to give up on Izumi, you shouldn't either. Listen, Denny said he could hear the Colonel through the stone, right? Then I suggest you guys get over there and start calling. If she can hear you, you know she'll answer back, right."

"Mays….she's just a baby," Remy whispered.

"_Is_ she? Maybe here. But I seem to remember Ed saying she was one rough, tough ass-kickin' alchemy teacher who scared the living shit out him half the time. I don't think that lady would give up too easily, do you?"

The Elrics just _stared at him. _After what felt like an eternity, one corner of Ed's mouth curled in something that almost resembled amusement. "Al…how much exactly to we pay this moron as his yearly retainer for legal services?"

If Havoc hadn't been distracted by grief his jaw would have bounced off the rocks at the number of zeroes in the figure Alphonse quoted.

"Add another zero when we get Izumi home."

"Yes, Nii-San"

"And Cowboy Roy," Mays added. "Al? What about Edwin and Fritz?"

Al didn't answer. "I don't know, Hughes," Ed's voice was full of regret. "I know Fritz must have been at the Gate, waiting for him. Maybe Fritz will find a way to send him back."

"Or maybe Mom will." Teddy rose unsteadily to her feet, stooped down, and kissed Mays on the forehead. "Thanks, Piledriver."

"Don't mention it, Ted-o. While there's life, there's hope, right? Remy? Listen, I know you don't want to leave Teddy, but," he leaned in and lowered his voice, "I wanna get your mom off the mountain. Simon and Nigel need to take a good look at her. Does she have any heart trouble?"

Remy shook her head. "Not unless it was something we don't know about, but—"

"Remy, he's right." Teddy smiled faintly at her husband. "Get her down safely. Get some supplies—and tell Uncle Simon and Nigel and Ai why we didn't come back. Make sure they're safe."

"See if you can get them on a flight back to the States. Get them to Atlanta. Go phone Gracia and see if she can go pick them up. Should be safe to go back to Resembool South. Call that Falman guy—have him check things out." Ed dusted off his hands, rose wearily and walked over to where Jeanne-Marie lay. "Hey, old lady—you'd better not die on me. I absolutely forbid my best alchemy student to kick off on me. 'Sides, Izumi's gonna need her grandmother. "

Jeanne-Marie struggled to sit up. "Edouard, Izumi is—"

"—not on this side of the Gate, right. But the kid made a sacrifice. He offered himself and the Gate took him. You want him to do that for nothing? And if he comes back you'll get to kick his ass—and I'm gonna sell tickets. Whaddya think?"

It was the kind of logic the old woman could accept. "I think Remy and I are headin' down the mountain," she agreed. "I do the callin'. I talk to Taisa's family. I don't think Ai gonna need to much of an explanation. I t'ink she already figured you out, Alphonse. She may not know the details---but she's no fool, dat one. Better stake your claim before someone else runs off with her, non?"

It didn't lessen the horror of what had happened, but doing _something_ was always better than doing _nothing_. Teddy choked down some bottled water, then planted herself by the Stone, one hand resting on it as she mentally called her daughter's name—and invoked the help of the child's father.

"You know I'm going in after them, Al?" There was no compromise in Ed's expression. He had that unmistakable heels-dug-firmly-into-solid-rock tone to his voice.

"Only if there's no other way, Brother." Alphonse shook his head. "But you damn well better come back, Ed. I've lost two grand children and a great-grand son. I can't lose my brother on top of all that…"

INSIDE THE GATEWAY

"Guess the 'What Would Dorothy Do?' option doesn't work in alternate realities." Glenda the Good must have been chasing down Munchkins or something, because the 'There's No Place Like Home" chant didn't land Taisa in Kansas, Oz, or more importantly, at the mouth of a cave in a Caribbean hell hole with more poisonous flora and fauna per square foot than anywhere else on Earth.

So..how _did_ one get out of the Gateway?

He thought about the most recent Gateway disaster, when Al and Teddy got yanked back to the deathbed of Colonel Roy Mustang. If they hadn't gone, he himself wouldn't have been born. . Izumi had formed literally a bridge of love between the worlds so that Ed's spirit could be reunited with that of his old lover and the old geezer—

_Waitaminute. That 'old geezer' was me. There's half of me still here, unless I've been reborn in Amestris—and that's hardly likely. If I had been alive I'd have marched right down to that god-awful bronze statue of Edo in the playground at the Alchemy Museum and transmuted the damned thing into...I don't know…a solid bronze Port-o-Potty, maybe? God knows it would have been appropriate._

"Half of me is on this side," he told the golden luminescence. "All right…if that's the case…could half of—"

Half of _Edward._ Gods below, was that possible? What was it Edo had told him?

"_My soul passed into the body of an English kid who looked almost identical. His name was Edward and he was living with my Dad in London. He was burned to death in the wreckage of the Blitzkrieg only minutes after Dad drove off to a meeting with Churchill. He saw the crash, drove back but it was too late. That's why my name is carved on a London war memorial as a victim of the Blitz. Since he was an orphan that Dad took in, Al and I have claimed him as a fictitious relative—as a red herring to throw off people researching our family history a little too closely."_

"_Like who?"_

"_Interested parties who've read about the Thule Group experiments or Shamballa. People who research unexplained phenomena. Some of the 'tin-foil-hat' crowd and New Agers. And some folks in Europe who want to make sure we don't have any unwanted 'visitors' from the other side. There's a group from the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. There's a group in Wales—kind of a black ops crew with government clearance. Oh yeah, and this spooky-assed guy from the FBI—I didn't want to tell him shit, but he said he'd get to the bottom of it eventually. 'The truth is out there, Professor Elric. I'm going to find out about Munich eventually.' Finally had to get a restraining order on the son of a bitch."_

So…if the other side of Edward was here, how the hell would Taisa reach him?

In the end, the answer was pretty dammed obvious, even if it made him feel slightly ridiculous.

_You told me—or rather quoted your father as saying—that we have a Gateway inside ourselves. That's not the only thing I carry inside me._

_I carry YOU, Edowado. When I traveled from Amestris to the Gate to Earth last time, it was my determination to find you that guided me to find a mother—to find Ran Fan, who was more than willing to welcome me as her child. If I can go through all that crap—even getting beaten half to death so that your niece would find me and take me under her wing and decide that maybe we might be good for each other—if we can make it through all that bullshit, then going home is not going to be quite as hard as I had feared._

He sat down. There was no surface beneath him and that unnerved him a little.

His eyes slid closed.

_Le Cote de Saint Jacques in Joigny had been a dream after the nightmare of homophobia that greeted them in Paris. The doors to the balcony were flung open and the night breeze off the Yonne river was heady with the scent of late summer roses and fresh, growing things. They'd spent the afternoon in the vineyards, feeding each other tangy clusters of wine grapes and getting slightly tipsy on the local 'ordinaire'. Arm and arm they made the long dusty hike up a country road back to the hotel, stopping off at a roadside café for the best damned cassoulet and pear tart he'd ever eaten in his life. _

_The massive claw-foot bathtub was so high off the ground Ed had to negotiate a little to climb in without busting his ass, but it was perfect for making love in a cloud of scented bubbles before tumbling together into that rosewood four-poster._

_He'd curled his long body around his lover, tossing Ed's damp hair over one shoulder so he could nuzzle his face into the soft nape of his lover's neck. The scent of warm, clean skin, damp hair, machine oil and night air…the quiet murmurs of contentment Edward made as he drifted off to sleep. He'd held off sleep as long as he could, savoring the day in his mind, deciding that if this was what turning fifty felt like he wouldn't mind growing older, so long as this glorious madman was snoring in his ear, hogging the pillows and occasionally farting in his sleep…_

What was it…that memory from just before his body died in Amestris/ When Teddy chalked out the spiral array on the floor of the cave and he literally had to drag his fragile body to its heart to lie down so she could…she..

_I was so weak I could barely undress myself, let alone help chalk out the array. She was so shy about what we were about to attempt. But it would pass her energy into my body and open the Gate so that Edward and I…_

"_I'm Edward's blood…call him…call him, Roy. He is touching you with my hands. Through me…he loves you again_…this…_is from Edward_…"

Closing his eyes, he allowed his loved one to take shape in his mind:

_Under the trees it's cooler this afternoon, and there's a shady slope away from prying eyes where we can spread our blanket. There are still a few apples in our basket, tiny golden apples and a melting bit of brie that needs to be shared. You tilt the wine bottle, peer comically down its neck and mournfully announce that there's only about a good swallow left. We argue good naturedly over who is entitled to the last dregs. You turn the bottle up, let the sweetness fill your mouth, then lean in to pass it from your lips to mine, before throwing a steel knee over my body and sitting up on my hips, grinning down at me, your hair tangling in the breeze. Laughing, I reach up, lace my fingers though yours and pull you down, then yelp in surprise as you pepper my throat with hungry little nips that make me shiver and arch up under you. You press your groin against mine—"It'll keep," you tell me, and your cheek fits just so, right into the curve of my shoulder, as you rest in my arms. "Autumn is coming," you murmur into my chest. You're right…there's a faint tinge of gold and brown on the lacy edges of the leaves that flicker overhead. Autumn is coming and you are ageless and in a few months I will officially be a half-century old. I will age. I will die, and you, my golden friend, will place my bones in a wooden box and burn incense before them. And then the waiting will begin again. _

_You hear my thoughts—or at least you feel the tension in my body. "You can't be lost, Roy," you tell me softly. "We may have to wait some time, but we'll find each other again. You proved it in Amestris. You can't lose someone who's a part of you. Now quit worrying about it. There's beauty in the autumn and winter. Don't be afraid, okay?"_

Between the worlds, Taisa became aware of a warm, comforting weight draped across his chest, and the familiar complex of scent he knew to be Edward…save for one thing: the odor of steel and machine oil was gone.

*_What did I tell you, Taisa? You can't lose someone who's a part of you_.*

The hair was shorter, softer and not quite so unkempt, but the eyes peeking out from under the golden fringe were the same shade of warm topaz. He kissed and twined himself around Taisa with the same ardor as the ageless alchemist who was waiting on the other side of the Gatestone, laughing softly as _two_ strong hands carded his dark hair with unmistakable affection. "_EDWARD??"_

Damn, but it was impossible not to respond. Edward was..oh god, _was_ this Edward? And what the hell should he do about that lively tongue that was feathering across his lips and why couldn't he stop himself from sucking on those fingers that had absolutely no right to be attached to his lover's hand or from tugging back that crisp linen shirt to stare at the oddly symmetrical shoulders—where was that suture scar below the right nipple? So odd not to hear the faint creaks and whirrings or to smell the unmistakable odor of well oiled automail.

The fingers curled, turning his face gently to meet the gaze of the seductive stranger. *_Look…closely…as you touch me, you touch him*_

The topaz eyes became translucent windows, just as Teddy's eyes in Amestris had turned from blue to golden, and within their depths he could see a small, dejected looking figure huddled by a campfire, pale and filthy and spattered with what appeared to be blood. _"Al, like I said, I'll give them twenty-four more hours, then I'm going in."_

Going in?? "H-how can I stop--?"

The arms and legs wound tighter, the molten eyes wider, so wide they seemed to swallow everything, even the endless horizon of mist that surrounded him. _He is touching you with my hands._ Gods below, he though, _here's hoping Teddy got it right…_

His lips gently traced the curve of an ear that seemed nearly identical. "_Ashiteru, Edowado,"_ he breathed softly. "Wait for me, you son of a bitch. God…please…if you've never listened to anything I've ever said to you, Edo, _please.._"

On the Earth side of the Gate, Edward's rant was cut off so abruptly that Alphonse was alarmed. "Brother? What--?"

Ed gestured sharply for silence. "I…I could have sworn I heard…"

*****_It's working. Tell him again__*****_

"Edward…I'm coming to you. Stay where you are."

Edward's head jerked sharply in the direction of the stone. "Taisa? Taisa! Where are you? Teddy? Remy! I think can hear Mustang!"

"Tell him to find Izumi," Remy begged. "Tell him to find Edwin."

"Or at least tell them goodbye," Teddy whispered as the tears began to well up in her eyes again. She turned her face away and laid her cheek against the stone.

Taisa shook his companion's shoulders. "Izumi? Edwin? What happened? Where are the children?" he shouted.

The Edward of the Gate regarded him with pity. *_Izumi was murdered by Envy, just as my other self had been killed. Edwin sacrificed himself for her return. Edwin's sacrifice was more than equivalent. Instead of saving one life, he has saved two__**.**__*_

Taisa's stomach churned. "Ohh god…Izumi's _dead_?"

Edward of the Gate shook his head gently.*_Oh no. Not now. Edwin's sacrifice will permit her to return when you return*_

"_SACRIFICE_?? What the hell…?"

Edward of the Gate looked sober. _*Young body. Old soul. He gave his life for Izumi and was met at the Gateway by his father, Fritz. They were very old friends, you see. Last time he walked in Amestris, Fritz Elric was known as Nash Tringham, and Edwin was Hohenheim reborn. Nash's descendant was causing serious trouble, opening the Gatestone in the museum in Amestris. His tampering and meddling will cause loss and suffering in that world just as Edwin Elric caused loss and suffering on Earth. Josh Tringham was to have died in the fire at the Alchemy Museum, but because of Edwin this young man will have a second chance on Earth.*_

STATE ALCHEMY MUSEUM, AMESTRIS

"This must be the place. Just like Dad said it would be. Jeeze. Hey! You! Tringham! Wake your ass up!"

But Josh didn't respond. The elegant green and gold carpet in the main lobby outside was smoldering, and the toxic fumes had combined with the carbon monoxide and smoke to make the air too toxic to breathe for long. The teen was sprawled across the face of the stone, blood caked around his nails proof that he'd been frantically scrabbling at the stone in the last conscious moments of his life.

Edwin wasted no time. Pressing his still-bloody palm to the stone's surface, knowing that Aunt Tee and Remy were still touching the stone, still trying to reach Izumi, he was gratified that the surface began to spark and grow transparent again.

All it took was one good shove and Josh Tringham sunk through the surface. "Give my love to Great-Granddad and Edo," Edwin shouted after him. "Cripes, now where the hell are the stairs?"

Fritz had told Edwin step by step where to go. _*Don't forget to run through the Mustang Exhibit. Taisa left something behind. Check his pockets*_

_There…_"Don't want to let this baby fall into the wrong hands," Edwin shuddered, shoving the faintly glowing stone into his pocket, alongside the folded up envelope containing his credentials. Ed had warned them that if they should ever wind up in Amestris to be sure to carry the sealed documents that would identify them to the Amestrian government so they wouldn't get locked up as loonies—or worse, as spies from another country.

The mini LED light he'd shoved in his pocket provided just enough illumination through the smoke to help him across the hall to the Elric exhibit.

The glass case containing the dummies of young Edward and Alphonse in their scarlet coats had been smashed open, and Al's coat was missing. Ed's, on the other hand, was intact and nearly exactly the right size for a 14-year-old. "It's gonna burn up anyway," Edwin reasoned as he slipped it on. "Might as well put it to good use..."

WITHIN THE GATEWAY

Taisa lost all awareness of how long he'd walked, or even in which direction. All he knew for absolute certainty is that _this_ Edward was holding his hand, guiding him with a certainty that Taisa had to leave to trust since he didn't have a clue in hell where he was being taken, other than 'out'.

*_Oh, there's a definite path here*._, his companion had gently chided. *_You just don't know how to use your eyes here. To find your destination, hold the other in your heart*_ He was smiling now. _I'm thinking of Teacher. She's guiding us to her. Can't you see where she's been playing?_*

Taisa Roy Mustang stared down. Somehow the endless golden void of the Gateway was showing faint traces of silver, like a child's scribbles, beneath their feet. "What the hell?"

*_We don't use chalk here*_

No, it was a silvery mist that seemed to glow softly on his fingertip when Taisa reached down to trace it. *_If you could see it from above, you'd recognize the Labyrinthine Array that Tricia uses. Izumi's making something to take home to her mother, just like at nursery school*_

Taisa grabbed at Edward's shoulder. "Nursery school?? Then, who the hell is teaching her?"

"_I am_." The voice seemed almost deafening in the sensory deprivation of the Gate, where vocal speech was cumbersome—hell, even carrying on the illusion of a physical body was a pain in the ass, Taisa guessed.

The scribbles and spirals led them to the very steps of the Gate, where a tall young man in an Amestrian army uniform was down on one knee, peering over the shoulder of a young girl of about ten or twelve summers who was laboriously scribbling away with the tip of her finger. She was unconsciously gnawing on her lower lip and knitting her dark brows together in absolute concentration—and expression he'd seen on her mother's face a thousand times whenever Teddy was struggling over a new piece of music.

Finally satisfied, she sat up, wiped her hands on the seat of her pants, then spat into her hand before laying a ruby-red pulsing jewel upon the heart of the spiral array. "See Father? I told you Envy wouldn't make me eat that stone. That means I'm free to go home with Taisa, doesn't it?"

Colonel Roy Mustang rose and helped the child to her feet. "I suppose so. Let's not make me late for my own wedding, child. Take Taisa home to Fullmetal."

…TO BE CONTINUED…

_You rise like a wave in the ocean  
And you fall gently back to the sea  
Now I want to know how to hold you  
Return to me  
Return to me_AMESTRIS, 2001

"So…what do you think?"

"I think I'd kill for a Big Mac right now." Edwin Hohenheim Elric sucked a bit of Flame Alchemist Sauce out from under his fingernails and made a sour face. "And if you think I'm drinkin' Gatorade out of some bald guy's head—"

"_Strongade_," Brian Breda corrected him.

"—you're out of your fuckin' mind, man."

Breda grinned at his companion. "Yeah, you're a damn Elric for sure, kid." Boy had a mouth like a sewer and a brain like a steel trap—and a cat-like propensity for surviving when nearly everybody else had been killed in the explosion that rocked the State Alchemy Museum. Breda had come back to the scene because he'd left his cell phone in his office. He'd been knocked off his feet by the blast, but the biggest shock was the small body he found crumpled in the parking lot behind the dumpster. The boy had stared at him wildly, unable to struggle to his feet. "P-please—I gotta see President Hawkeye!" He had a blond pony tail, a tattered red coat and wasn't much taller than a 12 year old—not a surprise, since he turned out to be barely fourteen.

The kid had documentation out the wazoo—even more shocking, he had a letter _signed in the actual blood of the Fullmetal Alchemist_. DNA tested and verified. They tested the kid, too, using strands of hair from Alphonse's hairbrush—a dead-on match.

Six weeks in military detention—oh, they were careful not to call it that, of course. But President Hakkim wasn't taking any chances, either with risky info about the Gatestone leaking to the press or with the kid's own safety.

Worst part was the Tringham family. That was terrible, hearing that their son was near death and the only way to save him was to shove him through the Gate. "He'll come out on the other side, where Ed and Alphonse are. I know they'll take good care of him." Hmmph. Small comfort for the grieving parents who frankly wished the little Elric kid had died in Josh's place. Mrs. T took it hardest, screaming that Edwin had possibly killed Josh or allowed him to die—even setting the fire himself to lead a false trail of evidence. However, the security feed clearly showed Josh Tringham activating the Gatestone—gods knew how—and the monster that came out of it, hot on the heels of what appeared to be Colonel Roy Mustang. It was Mustang's firebombing that had started the blaze, but thankfully there were no signs of the homunculus in Central, far as anybody could tell.

President Hakkim and the Parliament believe Elric's story. They had to. The evidence was incontrovertible. The big question was what to do with the kid. "I can't go back," he told them. "It was Equivalent Exchange. My life for Josh and Izumi. If I go back, that throws everything out of balance. Besides," he added with a faint grin, "it would be good to have an Elric alchemist living in Amestris, right?"

Soon as he named his alchemic legacy, the government had an answer. He was the direct disciple of the Spiral Alchemist, Trisha Elric, who had been Colonel Mustang's disciple. Since the Colonel had stipulated in his will that his estate and goods were to be held in trust for Spiral or her own pupils that crossed the Gateway, a tidy fortune dropped neatly into Edwin Elric's lap. More than enough to pay tuition to the State School for Alchemic Art and Sciences for all six years. Might take him some catch-up work but the kid was unquestionably bright. However, the kid would need some sort of family to look after him. The Rockbells had been contacted in Resembool, and Winry's daughter Sara had generously welcomed the boy into her home. "Mom and Great-Grandma Pinako would have wanted it this way," she told the authorities. "No Elric is homeless if there's a Rockbell with a roof."

However, someone else had taken an interest in Edwin Elric—someone who hadn't much time to wait for a visit. This was why they were crowded in the back of a taxi motoring to a private nursing home outside Central.

"Wipe your mouth," he cautioned. "Got Flame Sauce all over your chin, buddy." Climbing out of the taxi, Breda gave the boy a once-over. His long blonde hair was neatly braided and out of the way, and he looked fine in his new black student uniform, edged in white that identified him as a freshman. The red coat was a bit much—but in view of his family history it was completely understandable.

"Yeah, you'll do. C'mon—there's somebody you gotta meet…"

She trembled slightly, and the hand that stretched out to clasp Edwin's was as dry and crackly as old parchment. The eyes, though—those were still keen and kind and the smile she offered the young man was as warm as the smile she'd offered his great-grandfather the last time he'd visited her in Central, just before the skies tore open, the ground heaved and the roof came down, making her an orphan.

"Edwin Elric, may I present Miss Elicia Hughes?"

INSIDE THE GATEWAY

_Everything I tell you has been spoken__  
__And everything I say was said before__  
__But everything I feel is for the first time__  
__And everything I feel I feel for you_

She was a beautiful child. She would, in time, become a beautiful woman, her sire's elegant good looks cast into a delicate mould. But beneath the feathery dark fringe the black eyes crackled with animation and her smile was full of devilry. _Teddy and Remy are going to have a time with this one_, he laughed to himself.

Izumi slid her hand in his. *_You told my mother to think of me as yours, Taisa. That day you were with Mother and Papa and Edo, making plans for my birth. Do you remember?*_

*_You mean you know about the night we talked about--__**?**__*_

_*I was there, wasn't I?* _She flashed her dimples at him.

The Colonel nodded in recognition. _*Rather dangerous when she does that. Be careful. She'll have you in her pocket in no time*_

Taisa knelt down beside the child, fondly brushing her spiky black hair back out of her eyes. _* She's had me since before she was born.*_

Izumi nodded. *_The Colonel is my Father,* she explained carefully. *Jean-Remy is my Papa. And you are my Otou-Chan.*_

_*And your Oka-Chan is waiting. Now, since you're so clever, why don't you tell me how to get you home to Teddy and Remy?*_

The elfin face screwed up comically as she concentrated. *_There's a memory we all share, you, me, Papa, Oka-Chan and Edo. You know the one I mean. You need to think on it as hard as you can. Go back to it. And then we go together.* _

"Taisa, you monitor her breathing. Make sure she stays in rhythm. You and Remy will have to watch her. If she gets into trouble I have to know, _d'accord?_ Edouard, where the hell are you?"

"But she's my niece! I—I mean, I…I can't look between her—"

"_I DON'T GIVE A MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN WHAT YOU SEE! Help me_, Edo!"

"Teddy! C'mon! Don't tense up! You're doing beautifully."

"That's it, _Petite_…stop pushing…she's almost here…"

"Mama…_help me._"

"Ohhh shit….ohhh shit…Hey! _She's got black hair! Hey, kiddo_. Welcome _back_, Teacher!"

"Alphonse, you have her? Let me get this tied…there. Now cut the cord."

"Ohhh god, Mischief, she's so beautiful!"

"Al, c'mon! You're wibbling all over the baby!"

"Fuck off, Ed! This is MY grandchild--  
"Jeeze Al—did you just tell me to fuck off???"

"_BOTH_ of you _tais-toi!_ Give Teddy her _bebe_!"

_At that point who was kissing who was utterly irrelevant. I kissed Teddy. I kissed Izumi. I kissed Havoc—open mouthed, passionate and oddly appropriate. Thank god I remembered to pull in my tongue before I kissed Alphonse and Jeanne-Marie. "Come here, you!" I told Ed, pulling him close and locking my fingers around the edge of his automail. For some reason I was ready to devour the little bastard, I was so happy. Had we been alone I would have tossed him down on that pallet of half-inflated Colt Commando love dolls and fucked him cross-eyed. In spite of the awful cold he was sweating, shaking and though he would loudly deny it later, rivulets of what looked suspiciously like tears tracked down both cheeks and his nose was running. "You're getting snot all over my collar," I murmured as he burrowed his face into my neck. He punched me in the ribs. "Go to hell," he sobbed, biting me sharply on the collar bone._

_From the love of my life, that was as profound a declaration of devotion as one could hope for…._

AT THE LAIR OF EYES-OF-GOLD

_I am here calling the wind__  
__I am here calling your name__  
__I am here calling you back__  
__Return to me…Return to me…_

He worked his fingers into the crevices etched into the stone by his father's hand. It was rough and cool against his sweaty forehead. "After all we've been through," he whispered harshly to the rock, "after _all_ that bullshit, I am _not_ gonna let you be lost, Roy. Get your ass back here. Grab the kids and come home."

Nothing. Not even a shimmer.

"C'mon…I know you can hear me. If you can't hear me, I know you can feel me inside. I feel you, swear to god—and I don't even _believe_ in god." He squeezed his eyelids shut, his wet lashes brushing the stone's surface. "_Please_. God…you're killing me. Can't lose you. Can't loose Izumi or Edwin. _Taisa_…," his lips pressed against the roughness, "I love you. _Come back_."

He heard a muffled sob from Teddy. He knelt down and pressed her tightly to his chest. "He'll find her," he swore. "He'll bring them both home. She's his blood. It'll pull them towards each other. Remember, " he settled his back against the stone, arms around Teddy and Havoc, "the night she was born? How we had to make you a bed on the counter of the _Hentai_ shop out of those blow-up sex dolls? I never told you this—" he was chuckling now, "---but that Colt Commando was a dead ringer for Fuehrer Bradley, Roy's old boss. Eye patch and everything. I stole one of 'em and took it home and told Roy, 'well, here's your chance to stick it to the Fuehrer!'"

Teddy blinked up at him. "You _didn't."_

"The hell I didn't! I said, 'he's got three holes—we can call in Havoc and Hughes and you boys can get even once and for all!"

Havoc smiled faintly. "What did Taisa say?"

"Well," Ed chuckled, "I'd had the damned thing stashed in the closet, fully inflated and loaded with batteries. I pulled it out , tossed it on the bed and told Taisa to have a go. He was dumbstruck. Just for the hell of it, I jumped on it—and the air valve wasn't too tight and it started escaping out the asshole—"

"What the hell are you talking about, Brother?" Al wiped his eyes and stared at Ed, who was beginning to laugh. "How can you laugh when—"

"—and the Bradley doll just _ripped_ one off—god, it was so fucking loud. And Taisa said, 'Ed! Lay off the broccoli!' and I said, 'that didn't come out of MY ass, it was the doll!'. And he said I was full of shit and I told him, 'all right, give the damn thing a squeeze and it will do it again!' So…so…here we were, running around the bedroom with this…this…_thing_…squeezing it and trying to make it fart…just as Ai-san came in with the laundry…"

"---_Ai_ saw you?" Al was aghast.

"Ai _lost_ it! She completely lost it! She was laughing so goddamned hard I thought she'd hurt herself.

"You're one sick bastard, Uncle," Teddy was giggling now. "Actually, it was pretty comfortable giving birth on a pile of love dolls…god, what a night."

"Are we ever going to tell her the story?" Havoc asked hopefully.

"Well, we sure as shit can't tell her she was born in a manger! We'll wait until she's eighteen."

"By the way," Ed added slyly, "your husband kissed my husband when Izumi was born. On the _lips_."

Teddy gave her uncle a knowing grin. "I know. _And??_"

Ed's eyes grew wide. "_Heilige scheize!_ You don't have a problem with that?"

"I shared him with Hughes—oh, I'm _kidding!_ French men are always snogging other guys. He and Remy used to give me my pre-natal massages together and there was no sense bothering with clothing, since we ended up massaging each other and there was oil everywhere….oh, Daddy, don't get your father-feathers all ruffled! Nobody was getting a hard on. Believe me, I'd have noticed. It was all good clean fun."

"Was that where Taisa got the idea of the hot stones?"

_"Oui_. I gave them to him as a gift. He would help me massage Teddy, then he'd work on my bad back, where I was stabbed. He is very good, your husband."

Edward leaned back against the stone and smiled. "He is." Instinctively, he reached for Teddy's hand, then Havoc's. "Let's tell him…"

**INSIDE THE GATEWAY**

_I know what it means to be lonely__  
__And I know what it means to be free__  
__Now I want to know how to love you__  
__Return to me…Return to me…_

*_WAIT…someone is coming*. _Izumi lifted a slim hand, looking off in the distance.

It was a tall young man in jeans and a faded denim work shirt, a basket of fragrant herbs in one hand, while the other clasped the arm of a pale youth who seemed stunned or drunk and unquestionably confused. *_Attente, s'il vous plait, Taisa. Il doit venire avec toi.*_ He looked to be about fifteen, and his long, angular face and shock of blonde hair left no doubt who had sired him. *_Grandmere will take good care of him, and Edwin will prosper in Amestris, guided by Fritz. Perhaps you will see him again sometime, non?*_

The youth who bore a remarkable resemblance to his father and his grandmother handed the dazed boy to Taisa. Then he hugged Izumi tightly and kissed her on both cheeks._*Donnez mon amour a notre mere et pere, Izumi. Je vous verrai plus tard.*_

*_Subsistance observant, Django!. Ja ne, Otouto-chan!*_

_ *Matta ne, ma soeur!*_

Django Elric—or the soul who would bear that name when he would take birth as Teddy's son—smiled warmly at Taisa. *_ My brother will be safe with Jeanne-Marie. We have a debt to pay to the Elric brothers. It will be hard not to have the skills of plant alchemy, but we will find ways of managing. And Grandmere will teach me the art of the Traiteur, just as Uncle Nigel will lead me to a career in medicine. I will study alchemy with my sister and Josh and the three of us will help the Brothers guard the Gateways. Thus the Tringham brothers will have paid their debts to the Elrics—and to the dead of Xenotime, lost because of the Red Water and our family's foolishness. Our father Nash was Fritz Elric, and his son Edwin had once been Hohenheim. Much harm came from their discovery of the Red Water. Now they will begin to balance that harm as Edwin rebuilds the Elric alchemic dynasty in Amestris, guided by his father's spirit. For it was Edwin that was to die at Envy's hand. Fritz offered his life in exchange. He always knew more about the family than Alphonse thought. Comprennez-vous ce-ci?*_

Taisa nodded, not really certain if he comprehended or not. "Let's go," he said aloud. "Edward is waiting…"

###

_I am here calling the wind__  
__I am here calling your name__  
__I am here calling you back__  
__return to me__  
__return to me_

Something slammed into Edward's back so hard he was pitched forward into the dirt, pinned down and fighting for breath. There was a wild, frantic cry from Teddy and a kicking and scrabbling inches from his face. He lifted his head and caught a boot in the mouth. Spitting blood, he leaped to his feet, staring down at the scuffle on the ground, not allowing himself the luxury of relief. Instead, he planted his boot in the upturned backside with as much force as his human leg could manage. _"Goddamn you, Roy Mustang!" _he bellowed.

Roy was laughing as he rolled over, eyes wet with relief. He unbuttoned the front of his blue uniform jacket and handed a squirming bundle to Teddy, swaddled in a red coat stolen right off the wax dummy of Alphonse Elric in the Alchemy Museum.

"Shut up, Ed," said Taisa Roy Mustang. "You'll wake Izumi."

….. TO BE CONCLUDED…..

("Return To Me" by The October Project)


	17. Chapter 17

Beggar's Banquet Chapter 17 CONCLUSION

**A/N: As we come close to the end of the whole tale, you will find the complete arc and its prequels, "Fifty Trips Around The Sun" and "Three Decembers and a January"**

**Hosted here on **

"Ni-isan?" Alphonse poked at the fire with the toe of his hiking boot, nudging a smoldering chunk back into the heart of the blaze. It occurred to him that the Old English name for such a bit of wood was _faggot_. Men like his brother and Taisa had been consigned to the flames once upon a time. The thought made him shiver.

Ed didn't look up. His eyes were tightly closed, his face pressed into his lover's hair. Roy slept like a dead man in Ed's embrace, just as Alphonse had done when he emerged from the Gate a year ago. In his own arms, Izumi barely stirred. "I'll watch her through the night," he'd told Teddy. "I'll wake you every few hours if you want to check on her, but I don't think Ed and I will get much sleep. You've been through hell. You rest up now. She'll need her mother when she wakes." _Just like Taisa will need my brother. Love is love, I guess. Who the hell am I to judge his feelings for Heiderich? If Alfons had looked any different, would it have changed the way I reacted when I learned about what happened in Munich?_

"Ni-isan?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"I'm glad you weren't alone in Germany. I'm glad you had someone to love you."

Edward's eyes squeezed tighter and he was grateful the flickering shadows concealed his face. _"Thanks."_

Hughes came for them in the morning. He was not alone.

Ed scowled at the stranger. "Want to tell me why the fuck I don't remember meeting you, Mr.---?"

"Call me Jack" The man from Cardiff knelt down and offered his hand. "Hohenheim forgot meeting me, too. It was necessary, once he'd made contact with Dietlinde Eckhart and the Thule Society. Churchill thought he turned double agent. I told Winston that he had a powerful motivation to help the Nazis—stronger than any of his loyalties to Britain."

Ed's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah? What the hell are you talking about?"

"_You_, Edward. You were his motivation. The Golden Dawn had decayed into a lodge full of scholars who were too afraid to take the same risks Crowley had taken. He wanted a clear path between the worlds to send you home to your brother. He worked with Crowley, by the way—old Aleister helped him create the stones on this side, you know…but the Beast's preoccupation with hallucinogens was his downfall, although he was rather fond of the toad venom your father sent him from Ranamuerte. Anyway, the Thule group had the money, the connections and were willing to risk everything. He used them—and they used him up."

The argument that followed echoed through the canopy and was so strident and impassioned even the tree frogs stopped peeping. Remy retreated so the shouting wouldn't disturb Izumi, but Teddy hung on every word, weighing the consequences in her heart.

The Elrics, it seemed, weren't the only parties that knew about the Gatestones. They were an occult legend, the handiwork of the mysterious Hohenheim of Light—better known as Eyes Of Gold—and Crowley himself. That the curious hadn't uncovered them yet was pure dumb luck more than the vigilance of the Elric brothers. As far as the unclosed Gate in Munich torn open on this side by Hohenheim's sacrifice and in Amestris by Alphonse and Wrath, it was only a matter of time. The Elrics had purchased the land and paid astronomical taxes to the German government to keep the ruins barricaded from prying eyes. "The truth is, Edward, there's a rift there—and maybe it wasn't forged by humans. There's another one in Cardiff, Wales—or didn't your father tell you exactly where he came out when he emerged from the Gateway? You've been watching the Gatestones and the big cosmic suck-hole in Germany. My team watches Cardiff. We're not the only ones, and these aren't the only riffs. And not everybody has your own…er…_noble principles_. There's damn few of you Elrics. My team's not much bigger. All I'm saying is I want the lines of communication open between us. You may need us—"

"—not damned likely—"  
"---you _may_ not want us, but you may need us. And we may need you. I don't want any alchemic horrors from Amestris in this world any more than they want our nukes—or worse. There may be ways of closing the Gates that we might find out. After all," Jack grinned mischievously, "you're not the only one that's traveled between the worlds—and you're damn sure not the oldest man alive. Now," he stood up, dusted off his coat and offered his hand to Edward. "can we shake on the beginnings of a new and beautiful friendship? Or at least to you not shooting me next time I find it necessary to visit your lovely little vacation home outside Munich?"

"I…shot you?" Edward's mouth hung open.

"A couple of times. Of course, what _really_ hurt was having you punch right through my skull with that metal fist of yours. God, that hurt for _days_, and since there was no Vicodin around I had to make do with gin. Anything to protect your family, I guess."

In the end, Edward said no. Alphonse said yes, and Teddy, Taisa and Remy sided with him. "Brother," Alphonse gestured to his infant granddaughter, "we've lost Edwin, and we couldn't save Fritz or those other innocent people from Envy and Gluttony. We weren't prepared—and it will be a long time before Izumi is old enough to take her place with us. We don't know what else—or _who_ else—has slipped through or what they might bring with them. We need all the help we can get."

"And Edward, sooner or later, you're going to have to leave Japan. In fact, you and your brother will have to disappear for a few decades and come back as your own descendants. If anybody gets hold of you and finds out how old you really are, you're going to find yourself under a bell jar at MIT. We can help you. I've had to dodge that kind of scrutiny for centuries. And that's not to mention Al's family. They've got that same factor. It needs to be mapped—and now thanks to Nigel and Uncle Simon, there are two qualified physicians who can be trusted to study your DNA."

Ed threw up his hands. "Fine. You're all so fucking determined to do this. Just leave me out of it. Hughes? Let's get the hell off this mountain. Call Jeanne-Marie and tell her to get her ass out of bed. Get Nigel to check us out and get Simon ready to leave. Soon as we get to the resort there's gonna be a quickie wedding and then we're hauling ass. We'll have a proper ceremony back in the States—but we came to this hell hole to get married and I'm taking three minutes to marry Taisa and five minutes to fuck him—and I don't give a rat's ass if it's in the goddamned janitor's closet—and then we are outta here."

The blue eyes twinkled wickedly. "_Five_ minutes, Ed? If I had a lover that looked like Colonel Mustang I'd damn sure stretch it to ten. Oh—and Miss Elric, I have a belated wedding present for you and Jean-Remy."

"A present?"

"Give me one month—then go check your medical history. _And_ Izumi's birth certificate." He nodded once, as if quite satisfied. "Hughes? You're something else. If you weren't married….anyway, I'll be in touch. And I'll make my own way back to the hotel."

And he was gone…

Hope Springs Resort was a hopeless _mess_. Paninya had tried to escape by helicopter, only to loose her tenuous grip on the broken chain ladder, plummeting straight down into the bay in Port Norman. DEA Agent Hawkeye had pursued the chopper in a high speed chase that sent chickens, basket vendors, and dozens of drag queens flying hither and yon in the streets. She commandeered the first boat she found at the docks---and promptly got punched out by Captain Livy Armstrong. "Goddamn you, Annie Oakley! Why did you leave me in New Orleans?" Sometime during the night over a six pack of Red Stripe they cleared up all past misunderstandings and the crew spent the remainder of the night enduring the wild yodeling and the sound of furniture being smashed as the Captain and the DEA Agent noisily reaffirmed their love.

There was a joyful reunion in the bridal suite, Uncle Simon weeping unashamed with relief that Taisa had returned safely from Amestris and Dr. Nigel chattering excitedly about his invitation to join the Elric Foundation and his new challenge—discovering the mysterious side effects of the Philosopher's Stone on the Elric family.

Alphonse wasn't hearing Nigel—he couldn't see anything but the light in Ai-san's eyes. When she whispered in his ear "call me Mei-chan again, _Aru_" a corner of his heart that had been closed and locked tight since Winry's death swung open wide to welcome her.

While Jeanne-Marie deeply mourned the loss of Edwin, she refused to give in to her pain. "Best way to honor dat boy's courage is to do right by Izumi…and to Django when he comes." The fact that the Django had chosen to honor the Traiteurist's path and had absorbed Remy's _patois_ was proof that the child-to-be was drawn not just to the Elric bloodline but to Remy himself. The child had chosen his father, already knew and loved his sister and was ready to take up the honor and responsibility of his mother's alchemy. "Everybody know Alphonse and Edward, but you wait—one day, you two be known as de ancestors of Izumi and Django Elric. Dey gonna turn dis worl' upside-down."

The wedding chapel was still standing amidst the chaos with the news reporters running all over, frantically shooting footage of the protestors liberating buckets of live frogs and toads, which rocketed over the grass, belching madly. One familiar figure spotted a flash of blonde ponytail and bounded after Edward. "Oh, Edwina! What about your wedding?" He brandished his Nikon and began snapping away gleefully.

"Brinkley, leave me the hell alone!"

"Oh, feeling anxious before the ceremony, eh? That's a great human interest angle. I can see it now—" his hands framed an imaginary magazine headline. "The Lesbian Marriage Phenomenon—Just Like Any Other Bride, Right Down To the Jitters". It'll sell like hotcakes!"

Jeanne-Marie intercepted the reporter, shooing Edward and Mustang towards the women's dressing room. "De girls, they have to get ready, non? Dis be their day, cher. Leave 'em be, _d'accord_?"

"What the hell is wrong with using the men's side?" Ed grumbled peevishly from the shower stall. "And why does all the goddamned shampoo smell like lilacs?"

"Quit whining," came the voice from the stall on the other side. "You said you wanted to do this quick before we left. This is what we have to work with, so shut up and hurry. Mays has all the paperwork. Teddy? You've got our clothing?"

"Yeah. The garment bags were in the office with your names on them. Only ones still in there. "

"I won't need mine. I was planning to surprise Ed by wearing an Amestrian uniform—but now I've got one for real."

"And you look damned good in it, too," she chuckled. "Anyway, the rest of your stuff is packed, thanks to Ai-san. If you don't mind wearing your uniform on the plane home, we'll leave as soon as you fellahs…er…_consummate_ your nuptials."

"_GODMOTHERFUCKIN'DAMNIT!"_

"_What, _Ed!?!?"

"WHERE THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKIN' HELL ARE MY CLOTHES?"

The garment bag was clearly labeled "EDWARD ELRIC". The crimson coat and black trousers and tunic had been spitefully replaced by a gown of gleaming white satin. The neck was high. The sleeves were full length and poofy around the shoulders. The plain veil was attached to a simple white hair band…and a pearl rosary completed the ensemble.

"_Mon dieu_—that's not even a bride's gown—that's a child's First Communion dress!"

"_Edouard! Taisa!"_ Jeanne-Marie called out a warning before poking her head through the doorway. "There are five other parties waiting for the chapel. You have ten minutes before our time slot. Hurry up!"

"_Maman_, there's been a mix up," Teddy called back. "Edo can't get married. That bitch Paninya swapped his clothes out. Just look at _this_!" She flapped the offensive garment at her mother in law.

Jeanne-Marie regarded it silently for a few minutes. "Seem to be de right size. Put it on, son."

"WHAT??!!??"

Mrs. Havoc was unimpressed by Ed's fury."I said, put de damn dress on before de toe of my boot makes friendly acquaintance with your backside. _Ce n'est pas la mer à boire_!"

"I can't get married looking like some twelve year girl old heading to First Communion!" Ed pleaded, turning panicked eyes towards Teddy, Havoc and Roy in hopes one of them would back him up.

"_Eh bien_…" Havoc considered, "you _could _lose the rosary…"

A final _foof!_ to the veil and Ed was guided towards a mirror. "Goddamn it, you can dress me up in this piece of shit, but there is no fuckin' way you can make me look!"

"Actually, Edo, you look…well…really…ah…Help me out, Remy. What's the word I'm searching for?"

The word _charmante_ was on the tip of her husband's tongue. Thankfully he bit it back. "It will do, and this shall not take long, eh? You are with your family, _N'onc_. We will not laugh at you."

The Elrics didn't laugh…but Mustang nearly soiled his uniform. "Fuck _you_, Taisa!" Ed snarled, going for his lover's throat.

"_After_ the ceremony, sweetheart," Mustang deadpanned, catching Edward's small hands in his own before his windpipe was crushed. "At least I'm handsome enough for both of us…"

"The rings!" Ed wailed, stumbling over the hem of his gown as they headed up the walkway to the chapel's entrance. "Teddy! Where the hell are our rings?"

"Shit! I've got them packed in the luggage," Teddy apologized. "I'll run get 'em."

"No time," Havoc shook his head. "_Petite?_ If you don't mind…" He tugged his own ring off and pressed it into Ed's hand. "A bit big for Taisa, perhaps. And Teddy's may be small for you. It is the gestures that counts. When you remarry in the States, we'll have the right ring, _non?_ So let it do for now."

"Short and sweet, _hein?_" Jeanne-Marie beamed at them from the pulpit. "_Edouard_ Elric, son of Hohenheim of Light and Tricia Elric. Taisa Roy Mustang, son of Colonel William Rogers and Miyazaki Hikari. You come here in the site of God, the Saints an' your loved ones to be lawfully recognized as husbands and partners. Who are your witnesses?"

Alphonse slid his arm around his brother's shoulders. "I'm here for Ni-isan."

Teddy and Hughes were all smiles. "We've been here for the Cowboy since day one, Ma'am!" Mays grinned.

"Anybody object, we take a little ride out to de swamp an' somebody is gonna go missin'. Nobody gonna stop dis weddin'. Nobody gonna split you two up. An' if you don't act like assholes to each other, everyt'ing be good. Be kind to each other, boys. You have my blessin'. Now kneel, _chers_." They obeyed. Jeanne-Marie laid her hands on their heads and knelt down before them. Remy's strong hands closed over their shoulders.

"My dear boys," she whispered. "My dear, good boys…make this _last_. Hold tight to each other. You been through so much, yes…one day time is gonna lay his hand down between you. You gonna be swept apart—but if you found each other before, you find each other again…if dis is what you want."

Ed leaned his head against Mustang's cheek. "_Hell yes_," he whispered hoarsely. Roy's throat was so tight with emotion that he could only nod and press a swift kiss against Ed's temple.

"All right, Old Ones. You heard them. Heard and witnessed." Jeanne-Marie turned her face to the skylight overhead.

"Heard and witnessed," Remy echoed, hugging them both before drawing a small silver knife from his pocket. As had been done during his handfasting to Teddy, he made a small cut on their palms. Jeanne-Marie pressed the hands together, mingling their blood. "Blood calls to blood, chers," she whispered. "You are one heart. One blood. One love an' one will. When the day of parting comes, remember this day—and know after the bitter comes the sweet—and your hands will clasp again. _D'accord?_"

"_Hai!"_

"_Yes ma'am!"_

"Den by the powers invested in me by the Republic of Ranamuerte and before the Gods and Men, I declare you married. Don't fuck it up, or Jeanne-Marie's gonna come after ya with a big stick, got it?. Now," she glanced swiftly at her watch, "the chopper's gonna land at the tennis court in ten minutes. You wanna consummate, you better get to it, boys. When I knock on the door of de office, you better be zipped up and decent and ready to run or you gonna be achin' pretty badly on the long flight home, non?"

Roy leaned down, swung his lover over one shoulder and ran like hell for Paninya's office.

"Damn…I always wanted to do this. Never understood why until I remembered how it began back in Amestris." A sweep of his arm and a thick pile of ledgers crashed to the floor seconds before he dumped Ed down onto the desktop and hoisted the satin skirts up around his husband's shoulders. "God…this is so fucking _hot_."

Ed squirmed around uncomfortably, angrily plucking a cell phone out from beneath his left shoulder and throwing it across the room. "What's so hot, Shithead?"

"The dress. Your hair's down…I've got the best of both worlds and I like it." The blue wool uniform trousers hit the tops of Roy's boots, followed by the regulation boxers that had covered the arse of the Mustang mannequin in the State Alchemy Museum in Central.

"You sick fuck!" Ed spluttered. "Marry a man—and you get all hot because he looks like a woman??"

"No…it's the illusion, Ed. What I really want," he ducked his head under the petticoats, "mmmm…has…_nothing_ to do with…god, yes!…_women._ But a good husband would always pay tribute to his bride's charms…like…_this_."

"_JEEEZUZ CHRIST!!!"_ Mustang smirked under Ed's skirts and dove down again, tongue first. They didn't have the time for the sort of studied erotic seduction he'd planned for their wedding night, but he couldn't resist a few quick licks before grabbing the lube. And hot as Ed looked and erotic as this was, knowing Jeanne-Marie was likely to kick down the door with those damned size 9 Tony Lama boots was hardly conducive to the proper mood. And since he and Ed had abstained for so damned long, rushing things was going to make it mighty uncomfortable in the end, so to speak.

Pressing forward, he was gratified by Ed's response. The sweet groans, curses and screeches chuffed up his ego…until he recognized that his lover was screaming something about an automatic stapler that was firing over and over into his left butt cheek with each of Mustang's enthusiastic thrusts…

RESEMBOOL WEST, SAN FRANCISCO

Taisa Roy Mustang was halfway down the stairs when Alphonse laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Give them time," Al whispered. "It will be all right."

But there was nothing reassuring about those low, guttural cries coming from behind the closed doors of the traditional Victorian parlor. "Sounds like his soul's being torn apart. _Brrrrrr!_" This came from Maes, two steps above them on the landing, looking faintly ridiculous in his flannel pajamas with the yellow duckies all over them.

"Or being put back together, _non?_" Havoc's expression was quietly confident.  
Mustang opened his mouth then closed it. He sighed heavily. "I should be there," he argued, but there was no heat in it. "

"You will be," Alphonse's arm slid around his shoulder. "'Till death do you part."

There are things that only a mother can say to her child. The father is there, yes…but it's never quite the same. His first ever awareness is the steady beat of her heart. It is she that performs the greatest alchemy of all, taking a single cell from her mate and transmuting it through blood and love miraculously into a person, into _Edward_.

Grief and trauma had reawaked memories nearly a hundred years old, till they were as fresh and sharp as the knife's edge of guilt her son had wounded himself with every moment of every day since she closed her eyes for the last time in Amestris.

Edward, Al and Teddy, had been talking quietly together by the pool after the rehearsal dinner when all of a sudden Ed blurted out, "you know _everything_ now, don't you? How can you just walk around so goddamned calm when every time you look at me you know what I did to you and Al?"

Teddy's mouth fell open. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Ed's voice became ragged with emotion. "I turned you into a _monster_. I as good as killed my brother with that stupid transmutation—"

"—now wait a minute, Brother—" Alphonse tried to cut in but his brother wasn't hearing either of them.

"—and in the end I fuckin' killed _you._ Mustang obviously doesn't get it, or he'd be gone. What did they do in that fuckin' museum? Fuckin' _statues_! People staring at wax dummies and telling kids about the goddamned Fullmetal Alchemist—Hero of the People?? He's gonna think that's the truth. Not that I was so loudmouthed, cocky kid who forced his brother to commit a taboo, and then ended up dragging all these other people with him. I've got so much goddamn blood on my hands—but what I did to you—_Christ!!_"

An odd expression came over the face of Tricia Elric. "Daddy? Edo and I are going to talk. _Now._"

And they had gone into the library alone, and behind closed doors that part of her that had been a mother and wife in Resembool rose to the surface to reach out to the angry, miserable man who had once been her firstborn son, more precious to her than anyone else in the world. _Love? I didn't have a clue what love was until Pinako laid you in my armsI can't tell you what it meant to feel that first flutter of movement inside me, knowing that you were really there, knowing that no matter how lonely I was with your father, you would be there for me. I wouldn't even wait for her to bathe you or even cut the cord. I had to hold you, and when you opened your eyes for the first time and looked up at me….everything changed. You healed the hurts, Edward. And because you taught me to love unconditionally, I was able to go on living after all the pain Hohenheim put me through. And I carried it through to this life. If I'm able to love, it's because you gave that gift to me as my son. And when Remy and I are ready to have our son we'll call him Django—but the name on the birth certificate will say "Edouard"._

He had cried himself into an exhausted sleep, his head cradled over her heart as she held him, soothing him with a lullaby she didn't know she remembered. If it had happened to little Elycia she'd have dismissed it as a 'meltdown'. This was a full-fledged panic attack. _He's scared he's going to let Roy down,_ she concluded, easing him back onto the sofa, tucking an afghan around him and lovingly sweeping the messy blonde hair back from his sweaty forehead. _He needs to have a little more faith in our Taisa._

He met her on the landing as she headed for bed, catching her arm and pulling her into his room. "Is he--?"

Her face lit up as she squeezed his hands tightly in her own. "All he really needs is a good husband to take care of him." She glanced at her watch. "Fifteen to midnight. Bad luck to see him on your wedding day, so scoot!" She gave him a playful shove towards the door.

"Hey. You okay?"

" _Yeah_."

He looked like hell, eyes swollen from crying, and his voice was ragged. But he smiled and opened his arms wide when Roy knelt down beside the sofa.

Roy opened his mouth to inquire what the hell had gone on behind closed doors but something in Ed's weary smile made him close it. Instead, he sank to his knees and laid his head on his lover's pillow, one arm locked tight around Ed's waist, waiting contentedly for midnight…

"Slight change of plans, Cowboy," Mays grinned as he helped Roy on with his jacket and gave the blue coat tail a slight tug so it hung straight in the back. "Teddy says she's not escorting you down the aisle this time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She says a mother should walk with her son. She didn't think you'd mind."

_She's accepted the past and it's healing the present—and the future._ Roy felt a warm wave of affection towards Teddy, pleased that the awakening memories of Amestris had only deepened the bonds between Edward , Alphonse and Tricia. "It's only right that the three of them come in together. I guess I'm stuck with you, Hughes, since Uncle Simon says he's happy to stay in his wheelchair."

Hughes could hardly contain his grin. "Well…I did manage to hunt up two very beautiful women who say they'd be honored to walk you to your wedding." He darted to the door and flung it open with a bow. Two fragile, gray haired women in traditional kimonos stepped softly in, beaming with delight.

"_Auntie Reiko? Auntie Midori??"_ To his greater surprise, they bowed in turn to a white haired man in a somber black _hakima_, one arm holding Izumi, blissfully sucking her thumb. It could only be—

"_UNCLE TETSUYA????_"

"A very wise lady from Louisiana suggested that I might want to be here." He did not smile, but his eyes were kind, and one shriveled finger idly stroked his grand-niece's silken cheek. It was the first time in his life that he and Hikari's only son had met. "She suggested to me that if I didn't accept you, your husband and this lovely child of yours, she would use a wide varieties of voodoo to haunt me through the worst hells my ancestors ever dreamt of."

Roy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And you believe Jeanne-Marie?"

Miyazaki Tetsuya, his mother's surviving brother who had disowned young Taisa before his birth, pushed up the sleeve of his black kimono, revealing a half-healed wound, black and ugly. "I did after the spider bite…"

The Shinto ceremony was brief—a formality, really, as far as Roy was concerned. The real wedding occurred on a snowy rooftop in Tokyo the night his daughter had been born. Jeanne-Marie had affirmed and blessed it in Ranamuerte, binding them by shed blood and promising them that even Time would not part them for long. This was to honor his mother's beliefs—and to get that all-important California marriage certificate. Not that it would mean anything in Japan…but they would not stay in the Land of the Rising Sun forever. Sooner or later, they would have to move on. But for now…Tokyo was home. Al and Ai-san would be waiting to welcome them, and so would a whole clan of Miyazakis who had waited a lifetime to meet Hikari's son.

_"Watakushi wa kono josei to kekkonshi,fufu to narou to shite imasu. Watakushi wa kenkouna tokimo…"_

"I marry this man. No matter what the health situation is, I will love him…"

_"Soudenai tokimo __  
__Kono hito o aishi,kono hito o uyamai,kono hito o nagusame,kono hito o tasuke…"_

"…respect him. Console him. Help him…"

_Sansankudo__._ Three cups of sake, shared three times as a pledge of bonding, forever.

_"Watakushi no inochi no sessou o mamoru koto o chikai masu.."_

"…until my death, protecting fidelity, this I do swear…Shithead." Ed grinned wickedly at his husband.

"_Bean_," Roy purred back.

"Bastard—"

"Fullmetal Asshole."

"Colonel Sarcasm."

"That's _General_ to you, _Shrimp_—"

"Quit smirking and kiss me, you son of a bitch—"

**MOTU OME ISLAND, BORA BORA, FRENCH POLYNESIA**

"_Edward? Oh…oh my god…what have you done??"_

Ed had sent him away after they arrived. "I need some time to prepare for this."

"What—for me fucking you senseless after eight hours on a cramped plane with a drunken Aussie football team and twenty-seven nuns from Des Moines? Damn it…." Roy slammed the lid on his suitcase in frustration, spinning around and shoving Ed roughly to the bed. "Feel that?" he growled, shoving Ed's hand in the vicinity of his crotch. "Even Al's cat couldn't scratch it. Don't make me divorce you for mental…hey…what…Ed??" Something was seriously wrong. Ed wasn't playing. "Hey, asshole…talk to me." He leaned down until they were nose to nose. "Aw…you're really pissed this time. Hey…I'm sorry. I just…I just wanted you so goddamn much…"

"I know. I know." Cool metal fingers toyed briefly with his short dark hair. "There's…something I want to give you. I have to give you. But it's going to take me about an hour. Could you—I dunno—go for a swim or something? I'll turn on the light in the window when I'm ready. Okay?"

From the window he could see his husband skinning off his jeans and plunging naked in the surf, cursing Ed loudly in several languages, including Remy's Cajun patois. "You'd better hope to hell it doesn't freeze off!" Mustang was gesturing at his erection, saluting proudly in spite of the chilly water.  
His smile evaporated as he unlocked the small kit Al had packed for him…

He'd hissed and bitten down on the pillow and nearly wept with frustration before it was all done…then he panicked. The smell. Jeeze. What am I going to do…? Thoughtfully, Al had packed witch hazel pads, the same kind people used for hemorroids. Burned less than alcohol wipes, although nothing burned so horribly like Pinako's cautery. _Good thing you passed out, Ed. We have to do it, otherwise you'll rot under there and then you'll die of blood poisoning._He could still rot, even now. The odor was a warning. A smell that could become a stench that could become death if he wasn't very faithful about this.

"There's nothing you could buy Taisa that he can't get on his own, except the thing he needs most—the thing you have to give him."

"What's that, Mom?"

"_Truth_, my darling. Give him the truth."

He flipped on the light in the window just before the sun set and picked up his tools one more time…

"_WHAT_…what have you _done_?"

Edward Elric was naked—truly naked—for the first time in all the years they had lived and loved and fought and fucked and laughed together.

His shirt and trousers were neatly folded beside the bed. Resting beside them, a metal arm, a leg, back and chest plates and the socket he had unbolted from the stump of his leg.

He held onto the bed post for balance as he rose. "I can't hold you," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't even crawl to you." There were wires poking out of the socket implanted where his shoulder ought to be, more of the same dangling from his thigh. The flesh—if it could be called flesh—underneath his brace plating was an angry blackish red, thick and pearly and gave off a slightly unpleasant odor, like a foot kept too long in a leather shoe. The scar tissue was laced with more wires, crisscrossing and crawling under the livid tissue like brightly colored worms. "Damn you, Roy—don't you get it?? _I can't hold you!_ This is the truth. This is all I am."

Two steps and Roy was beside him. He gently pried the sweaty fingers from the bed post and guided them around his own waist. He let his own right arm fall to his side, hooking his left arm around Ed's shoulder shifting his weight until he balanced on his own left leg. Ed's balance trembled slightly. "All we have to do," Roy told him softly, "when you think you're going to fall—we're going to fall…is hold on a little longer…a little tighter…and we'll be okay."

"You mean that, Mustang?"

"Have I ever lied to you, Fullmetal?"

"Since the day we met at Pinako's house, you son of a bitch, and you know it."

The once and future Flame Alchemist turned them gently and eased back upon the bed, smiling up at the infuriating little man who was worth waiting a lifetime for. "All right, bean boy….you have a lifetime to prove me wrong….starting now…"

Ed was frantic, gnawing ravenously on Roy's arched throat, growling with frustration between breaths. He clamped his thighs around Roy's hips but couldn't maneuver to do more than meet cock to cock in the odd lucky stroke.

"_Fuck me…now_…" Roy's command was a ragged gasp of hunger.

"I—I _can't_," Ed shouted, jerking his head back and cursing, clumsily trying to pull away, but the one arm held him fast. "Goddam you! It's not possible!"

"_Nothing_ is impossible, Ed!" Roy shouted back, "I told you. Just hold on tighter…"

With the greatest of care, Roy gripped his lover with one arm and turned slowly over until his face was in the pillows and Ed was clinging to his back, panting and shaking. "Now what?"

Slowly and deliberately , Roy rose up on his knees, offering himself, making certain that his hips weren't too high and that Ed had his balance on both knee and stump. A cry of pure delight rewarded Edward as the blonde's tongue flicked tenderly against his husband's opening, the tight ring of muscle pulsing as the soft licks became thrusts. "So good…_god_…so…good…" Roy was arching into that invasive tongue that circled and plunged with a rhythm that made his cock twitch and drip at the though of what he hoped would follow.

Growing confident, Ed let go of his death grip on Roy's waist and leaned in, his weight on his whole leg. His fingers dipped down to his own cock, slicking them with his own precum and spit before letting them tease and play in the warm crevice between Roy's taut cheeks. Roy purred his approval. "Like that, do you?" Roy could hear the cockiness returning and was glad Ed couldn't see the look of triumph on his face. One fingertip eased inside the tighness, circling and massaging gently, coaxing it to relax. Another delicious plunge of the tongue and then that questing digit slid right up to the knuckle. "Know what you feel like?" Ed's voice was hot and low. "Like tight, hot silk…like heaven…mmm…was that good…? That's it…ride it, move that beautiful ass for me."

Fingers stroking, coaxing, punctuated by sweet stabs of tongue. "Shit, I'm so wet for you." Fingers and tongue retreated. The soft, moist sound of a hand stroking an eager cock. A soft grunt of concentration…an intake of breath…and he was balls deep and grinning. "Got you where I want you, Shithead…nothing like riding a wild Mustang" A hand slapped him sharply across one buttock. "Now," his love commanded him, "_move_!"

And move he did, not surprised at all by the strength of Ed's thrusts. Roy dropped his head to the pillow and groaned, reveling in his surrender as much as the joy of Ed's returning confidence—no, over confidence. His hand slid down between his own sweating thighs. Ed slapped it away. "Ah-ah-ah…you're gonna come just from this—" lightning sparked and shimmered behind Roy's closed eyes as another stroke slammed into his sweetest spot—"from just my cock inside you…filling you up…yeah, that's it…grind down hard on it…just like that…goddamn, your ass is so fuckin' hot…ohhh…godfuckyeah…move it around like…shit…ohhhshit…I'm…gonna…_TAISAAAAAAAAAAAA_!!!!"

The wild, guttural cries of delight couldn't have been torn from the throat of the ever-so-elegant-and unflappable General Roy Mustang, who surely would never have submitted to that chibi-sized, sawed off, little runt who was slapping his ass, biting his back and cackling with triumph as he slammed in to the hilt and pulsed what felt like a river of heat inside him. _Well_, he chuckled inwardly as Ed pulled out, rolled over and ordered him on his back for a little quid pro quo, _at least I've got two weeks to get even with him…_

A sharp bite on his lower lip stung, but before he could say what the fuck his mouth was being invaded as a prelude to the next event…

_ …__if the little prick doesn't fuck me to death tonight…._

KASHMIR-XINJIANG, NEAR THE CHINESE BORDER OF TIBET

"I'd kill for a pizza." Tossing a well-sucked wing bone into the fire, the Great Wise Man of Xinjiang burped and folded his arms behind his head. "Think Domino's delivers here?"

Josh Tringham shivered and glared miserably at his companion. For a so-called holy man of 'Earth", the only prayer he'd hear this faker Yao chant, over and over, was oh GOD I'm starving!"What the hell is Domino's?" he asked sullenly, grimacing as his stomach gave a gurgle of warning. Tsampa with bitter tea, burnt flour and rancid yak butter was going through his digestive tract the way Roy Mustang went through an Ishballan village. "Is it like Gluttony's?"

One dark eye sparkled under a tumble of glossy black hair. "Funny you should mention Gluttony…."

The End…of THIS tale--

The Further Adventures of the 20th Century Elrics

Will be recounted in **"You And Me Of The 10,000 Wars"—Coming FALL 2009**


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